Harry Mewter
by Alex Ultra
Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot. Crossover, of sorts, with Pokemon. Mew!Harry. Not as stupid as it sounds.
1. It Started In The Restroom

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

-- Chapter 1 : It Started In The Restroom --

Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had always been a strange, mysterious place; its very founding had been surrounded and impeded by secrets, arguments, and rivalries that had never quite died down. One of those very 'secrets', a nasty surprise left for the future by one of those very founders would, centuries later, come back to bite a certain student in the shoulder, quite literally as it turned out. The Chamber of Secrets, as it had been dubbed, was Salazar Slytherin's final hurrah to his former friends and the school that they would then, in turn, run without him; the Basilisk he'd left behind would be used by his heir to bring death to the school, and nearly tore down the very work that the legendary wizard had helped to build up.

Harry Potter, however, had put a stop to that; though the animosity between Salazar's house and that of Godric Gryffindor would remain to the end of time, Harry had placed a final nail in the coffin of Salazar's mighty surprise. The Basilisk was dead, and he, his friends, family, teachers, and entire world could move on with one more bit of darkness long gone.

Which, of course, allowed Harry and his friends to go back to what they really ought to have always been: children. Children with ulterior motives, with wants and desires and, perhaps, just a bit too much brains between their ears for their own goods. For outside of the Chamber of Secrets another secret had been brewing, a secret much more in tune with the present, and no-where near being something from the past.

Hermione rubbed her arms a bit to restore some of the warmth they had lost over the last few minutes, "I'm telling you, I don't like it one bit." She cast a worried, fretful glance about the restroom stall, as though expecting Peeves to burst out of the wall at any moment.

Ron refused to scowl, he didn't like it much either, but they had to stand firm, "I know, but we don't have any choice; they're shipping us back home in only a few days, and we can't exactly take it home with us, can we?"

Harry shook his head, "My aunt and uncle would probably toss it down the drain, if they didn't dump it out before we even got to the house." He gave a wary glance to the object of discussion as Hermione poured over a book, one with which the lot of them had gotten very familiar over the previous months.

A fourth voice drummed in with a lilting, almost teasing tone, "Oh come now," It was Myrtle, the ghostly girl best known for her long, bemoaning cries, "What's the worst that could happen? You could die, right? Like poor Myrtle? Poor Moaning Myrtle?" Contrary to her normal tone, in this instance the normally forlorn ghost seemed normal, almost teasing.

Ron huffed in exasperation, "Well at least we'd have company, wouldn't we?"

Hermione snorted as Harry chuckled nervously, "Honestly Ron, I'm trying to concentrate, we can't get this wrong! There's a reason that doing this illegally is.. well, illegal."

Ron shrugged, "Right, right.. don't know what good it'll do yeh' though, you've already got it memorized."

Hermione didn't say a word, instead merely settling for giving Ron a withering stare before turning back to the book one last time.

Finally, their attention was turned back to the cauldron; it was small, nondescript, and just looking at it would have given no one, short of Snape (the school's potion-master) any idea of what might have been brewing inside it.

Indeed, no one knew what the three (sometimes four) of them had been doing in the locked-off and unused girls' restroom, what they had started doing only a couple of months after the start of what had been only their second year at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It had started off simply enough, with an idea to spy on the Slytherins with a shape-shifting drought called the 'Polyjuice Potion'. The Polyjuice Potion was incredibly advanced, something that no one, even a fully qualified wizard should have been attempting to do unsupervised, and which would have likely gotten them expelled if it'd been discovered prematurely.

It had led from there to something that Harry had almost positively insisted upon, something that he almost couldn't help but to insist upon. It had simply been that, ever since having seen the school's Transfigurations professor change shape in front of her class, before Harry's very eyes, his heart had sung with the want, the _need_ to do much the same.

Hermione had remembered bringing the topic up, recalled reading about it once upon a time and with that one vague memory, in which not even one straight mention of a spell or potion name had been uttered, she had discovered and brought together all the information available on what was rather informally dubbed 'the Animagi Potion'.

Unfortunately, it took a bit longer for this second potion to properly set, requiring so many happy coincidences in timing, coincidences that did NOT work in their favor, such that it had not been ready in time to help Harry in determining the cause, and the solution, to all that was going on in and around the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets.

That snake had already slithered on, but now they were on a new time limit; the end of the school year was drawing close and they would be leaving soon, and since they couldn't covertly take the potion with them they now had to decide whether to throw it out altogether, or to risk it and go all in.

Harry and Ron trusted Hermione explicitly, with the stakes as high as they were only she had the smarts to make any more sense of things than had already been made; unfortunately, that trust seemed to have turned her into someone that was nearly as close to the edge as the strangely smiling ghost floating overhead.

Finally, with one last inspection Hermione sighed, closing her book and rubbing her temples, "Alright, Mercury should be with us, and Mars is out of the way, and I don't even _Know_ why the Moon was giving us trouble, but the Wolfsbane should have set up the way it's supposed to, which will make it either more effective or more lethal. I still say we're really stupid to even be trying this, this is far over our heads!"

Ron's eyes lit up, "So are we trying it?"

Hermione sighed heavily, "Only if you're dead set to it, because if we're wrong, we _will_ be dead."

Ron gave Harry a meaningful look; this was it, do or die time. Harry nodded slowly, grimly, "Yes, I'm going to do it."

Ron nodded back, inflating himself up with what was likely false bravado, "Let me go first... to try it; if it doesn't work then you two won't follow me. Got that?" Ron gave both of his friends meaningful glares before he gave Hermione an additional helpless look, to which she sighed with exasperation, ladling a single dose into one of three small cups that they had procured for exactly this moment.

Ron took the cup with a grimace, then with one final gulp of fear and a shake of trepidation, he downed the contents all in one go.

Outside of that room it was two in the morning; it was dark and cold, and even most of the ghosts had gone to sleep. Which, of course, meant that one Albus Dumbledore was also asleep, and thus not available to notice the sudden spike of energy, the likes of which he would only have two more chances to feel that night.

Of course, since he hadn't been able to notice the first one, he wasn't likely to notice the other two, was he?

Ron opened his eyes, gasping widely as he looked at the wide-eyed faces of his two best friends; his two very, very best friends. "A lion, some kind of lion! It was roaring in a field of fire!"

Harry was the first to react, grinning widely, "Hah, should have known, it suits you just fine I think." He then turned to Hermione, "Do you want to go next Hermione? Or should I?"

In response Hermione thrust a goblet into Harry's hands, "If I don't wake up right away don't worry, just let it go. If I start foaming red foam pour this in my mouth, but if I foam green foam you'd better lop off my head, because I'm liable to explode if you don't."

Ron's eyes flashed, "You're joking, right?" He looked with utmost desperation into Harry's eyes, "She's joking, right? She never said anything about exploding! And I can't lop off her head! That's crazy!"

Harry had to agree, but silently decided not to allow himself to think too much about it; sure, perhaps naively so, that things would turn out just fine.

So the two boys and one ghost set to watching the living girl fill a cup with the stuff, then quickly swallow it.

The teachers, having just finished with the single greatest threat that any of them had seen in many, many years and still fresh into the relief of no longer having to worry about the Chamber of Secrets being open and killing off all the students, were in no mood to notice even this second pulse of energy, which even if they'd been alert would have been largely indecipherable.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked about, breathlessly relaying the entirety of her thoughts in a single sentence, "Some kind of dog, I think; I didn't get a really good look at it through all the different colors, but I know it was brilliant." She was smiling with a gleam she'd rarely ever had before, leaning back as though she didn't have a care in the world; she was obviously pleased.

Ron grinned, "Now what was all that about exploding then? Nonsense!"

Harry didn't think it particularly funny, especially now that he was the only one left who had to worry about that sort of thing happening, especially with Hermione apparently indisposed and unable to do her magic, literally.

Uncomfortable, Harry cleared his throat, snapping Hermione out of her minor trance, "Oh! right, here you go Harry." She prepared the third cup, and placed it in Harry's hands, replacing the previous goblet of whatever.

Harry gulped down one last lump in his throat, taking strength from his friends, his much braver, smarter friends, before quickly downing the foul-tasting, slimy bit of nastiness that...

... ooooh...

'Wha?'

Harry noticed that the world had gone partially white, not that he could see what lay beyond that anyway.

'Where?'

For a moment he was concerned, several questions going rapid-fire through his mind. Had it not worked? Did he not have an animal? If so, what might it be? Could it be too small to be seen? Would he even be able to pull off the change in the first place?

The first indication that something might be happening was a sound, small and melodic, and seemingly off in the distance; it was laughter, a high-pitched, almost girlish laughter that Harry was oddly drawn to, a sound that brought a smile to his lips.

Then, out of the milky darkness it came, head first, and Harry was hard-pressed to understand what he was seeing.

'What? A rat?'

It was thin almost like a rat, but much too large. Though perhaps more than the size, the color struck him as odd; Harry could think of no animal that was quite this shade of pink.

It looked up at him from its position on the ground, bright green eyes staring into his, a bit of fur ruffled between its adorable triangular ears. Harry, in that moment, was too concerned about his hair always being messy to think too much on what he might be looking at.

Then it smiled, and stood. No longer on all fours, it had pulled back to stand on its hind legs, which had the appearance of being short, curved and powerful with long, thin feet. Its legs were attached to a body that was almost teardrop shaped when standing, with a finger-thin tail nearly twice again as long as the rest of its body, adding up to a total of three feet, for a body of no more than a foot from head to tail, or about a foot and a half with the feet included.

For a moment Harry entertained the notion that he was looking at a Kangaroo, and was on the way to being disappointed before he shook his head at being silly and stupid, 'I'm a cat.'

He frowned, where had that thought come from? Still, he couldn't deny its truth, 'A very odd looking cat, certainly. I've never seen any cat like this before.'

The cat, practically a kitten, he somehow knew, smiled brightly up at him before waving with one of its strangely hand-like paws before suddenly floating up into the air.

'A magical cat, then.'

Again it smiled at him, its mirth filling Harry up with mirth of his own as it twirled a couple of times, leaving him with a sound that he would carry for the rest of his life.

"Me~ew!"

It disappeared, and Harry found himself looking up at the concerned and curious faces of his friends.

His best friends. His very, very bestest friends, "I'm a cat. I think the best in the world."

And there was no more that needed to be said. They cleaned up the evidence and got back to their rooms before they could be missed.

The next day they all claimed to have had nightmares, such that their being tired all day could be explained, and from that point there was no more discussion about what happened just outside of the Chamber of Secrets. It was a secret that they would take all the way home with them.

But it wouldn't stay secret forever. Fate had other plans, and she would not be denied.

-- End Chapter 1 --

This was more of a drum-up than anything else, the background as to how the rest of the story came about.

I'm not sure, exactly, what gave me the idea. I almost always have a liberal mixture of several (dozen) different things running about in my mind at any one moment, and one day I thought it might be entertaining to have a Mew at Hogwarts. Originally I thought I might have a student have a Mew as a familiar, it technically being a cat, but then this idea popped out of nowhere and I liked it. I liked it a lot.

So, I started fleshing it out, and (obviously) writing it down.

One thing I want to say is this: This fic isn't really meant to be taken entirely seriously. I'd like to keep the quality up and all that, but this story will likely lean more on the innocent feel of Pokemon than on the Heavy feel of Harry Potter, though I'd rather simply have a mix of the two such that neither is truly overshadowed. (Too much.)

Past that I just want to say right now that this was a one time deal, no one else will be turning into Pokemon (unless I later decide to break this rule, which I suppose is possible).

_Showing Version Edit Notes: I was just going through this, pouting and complaining at how short it had turned out to be, being only three pages at my usual nine-point, rather than eight. I was, and am willing to allow the shortness since this was more of a prologue than an actual chapter, but that wasn't really got me tied up in the head, but rather it was my realization that over the years I had become somewhat preoccupied with one thing, one small, innocent little bit of punctuation that a lot of other people probably don't give all that much mind to: The Comma. I spent nearly as much time playing with the commas in this one chapter as would have taken me to write it in the first place. That sort of obsessive behavior, while good for making quality writing I'm sure, it can't be good for my overall mental health. (Not that my mental health is in a good way to begin with, mind you. I suppose we're all a tad dismembered in the head from time to time, but I seem to be taking it with a similar fervor as Professor Dumbledore, except without the hidden power the old wizard has to back up his dementia. Hehe.)_

Alex Ultra: Dementia Is Natures Way Of Saying 'Lighten Up'

LATER


	2. Summertime

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

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><p>Chapter 2 : Summertime<p>

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><p>Upon returning to Number Four, Privet Drive that summer Harry had fully expected to be confined to his bedroom, from which he had literally broken out (with some help from a flying car, of course) just the previous year, whether by force or simple restriction.<p>

Once arrived however, he found that he had even more freedoms than he had as a child; which meant he was forbidden from practicing, studying, or even discussing magic, but for the large part simply left unsupervised unless he did something inconvenient to the Dursleys.

Of course, he had no intention of allowing his homework to go undone, but aside from that he was fairly sure the Dursleys were (for them) happy at his decision to stay in his room of his own accord; most of the time he kept the door locked, and made very little noise. At dinners he would often hear Uncle Vernon, a portly, purple-faced man with anger and blood-pressure issues, muttering about being disappointed at Harry not having run off again.

Though Harry wasn't surprised at his relatives' negative attitudes toward his continued presence, he simply didn't think it prudent to tell them that he simply wanted his solitude; after all, they were currently happy at not having to deal with him, why make them feel as though they had to keep him from being pleased at being left alone?

Indeed, about the only one that seemed keen to invade his space was Aunt Petunia. She and Uncle Vernon had apparently taken to suspicion that Harry might be studying magic in his solitude, and for the first time in memory, they decided to be sneaky about their dealings with their unwanted nephew: Petunia had decided to periodically clean Harry's room, physically kicking him out before starting and, though she really did a top-notch job of it, she seemed to be becoming greatly annoyed at not being able to find his 'school things'.

The oddest moment of the summer, however, was when a parchment from Hogwarts had come in the mail for him; it couldn't have been better timed, to be honest, because if it had come at any other time his relations would have simply burned it.

Instead, it was a permission form that would allow him to visit a town called 'Hogsmeade' during special weekends over the following school-year, which had become Harry's bargaining chip for a very special visit; an absolutely horrible woman that forced Harry to call her 'Aunt Marge' had come over for a week-long visit, and Harry recognized his very special chance, offering Uncle Vernon an entire week of playing whatever part his real Aunt and Uncle cared to give him, in exchange for 'signing the ruddy paper'.

When Harry looked at it properly, he found the entire experience to be rather a lot of fun. See, his Uncle had written up the story such that Harry was now attending a school called 'St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys'.

Apparently, not a whole lot of thought had been given to that story, since it meant that playing this particular part meant he would have to be an incurably criminal boy.

Though the tricks and such were entertaining, and being allowed to cause trouble in his relations' presence was fun, the repercussions from Aunt Marge weren't quite as much. Indeed, as the week went along, her behavior was becoming downright frightening as her initial tongue-lashings evolved first into sharp smacks with her walking-cane, to sicking her dog, an old and evil-tempered bulldog named Ripper, on him when he stepped out-of-line.

Oh, Harry was careful not to take it too far (he didn't want Marge to take to the idea of coming over more often to 'keep him in line'), but by the end of the week the simplest offense, such as not throwing away a candy wrapper (left on the floor by Harry's porky cousin Dudley only seconds before, in full view of everyone) was enough to set the woman off into a tirade about how much of a dirty, nasty, horrible, murderous monster his father was. Of course she was careful not to trod on Aunt Petunia's bony toes by not mentioning his mother, but both women left no doubt of their opinion of the female half of his parentage (which was no better than their opinion of his father), though not directly scrutinizing the matter.

Once it was over, Uncle Vernon agreed to 'think about' signing 'that ruddy paper', and Harry was left to marvel at how much he'd accomplished.

Indeed, he was honestly surprised that he hadn't performed accidental magic at some point and turned Aunt Marge purple, or given Aunt Petunia leaves to go with her plant-like arms, let alone the lack of use of magic in the few real pranks he'd pulled; he'd kept his cool remarkably well, and not simply 'under the circumstances', either. Harry's entire way of dealing with the Dursleys had begun to change, rather drastically, since a little less than a week before returning to Number Four, Privet Drive.

That was the day that Harry's world changed forever, the day that he, Ron, and Hermione took an illegally-concocted Animagus potion. Which, as he'd stopped to think about it, made him at least part of the criminal his uncle accused him of being.

When they had taken that potion, Harry right away noticed that things had changed. Harry didn't worry so much about being teased, or pressured, or about involvement of any kind; rather than taking offense, he now simply found it amusing.

In fact, he found just about everything amusing, from the way that Dudley seemed to get stronger as he got larger (Harry surmised that it was Dudley's 'extra baggage' that forced his muscles to grow stronger to adapt), to the way Aunt Petunia seemed to be blind to the idea that Harry might have fore-warning of her 'cleanings'.

Why, the tools used to entertain preschoolers had taken on a new interest for him in recent weeks, and he got immense satisfaction out of disturbing the Dursleys by enjoying the odd, brightly-colored plastic toys they'd given him in insult.

Of course, annoying them was as enjoyable as any toys, and any chance to enjoy both was just irresistible.

He worried, for a bit, about his odd change, but chalked it up to being the fault of his Animagus form, that of what appeared to be some form of kitten; an odd, bright pink kitten at that.

This, in fact, was what he'd been doing in his bedroom all summer, practicing his Animagus transformation in solitude; it was rather a lot of fun, in fact, to explore areas that he'd known as a human through new eyes.

It was especially fun to go out at night, since his feline form was apparently able to see quite well in even pitch blackness, and the cats next door though perhaps a tad rowdy from being cooped up all the time, were overall rather pleasant to him. Though he'd so far avoided the gaze of Mrs. Figg, the neighborhood's 'Crazy Cat Lady', fearing she might give him some odd, pink-related name and claim him as her own. (Let alone that he didn't particularly like her.)

More surprising than perhaps anything else, though, was a revelation about his Animagus form that he doubted even Hermione would have expected: He was magical.

Though the vision from the potion had suggested it to begin with, he really only first noticed it when he realized that he could, apparently, sense people's presence (quite useful in fore-warning him about Aunt Petunia's raids or Mrs. Figg's coming around the corner). Then, hardly a full three weeks into his 'imprisonment', while he had been raiding about around town, he discovered his second ability.

He'd been sniffing about in an alleyway of no real significance, when he was startled by the sound of a large Alley-Cat growling menacingly.

Harry knew he was in trouble when he heard that noise as, though there were no words, the meaning of that growl was quite clear to him, as though he'd pulled the information directly from the cat's mind; he'd invaded someone's territory, and was about to be put down with extreme violence.

The problem was that, as new as he was to his new form, Harry had no chance of winning a cat fight, claws or no claws, and as the large male came at him he panicked.

The puzzled noises that the other animals, including the ill-tempered cat made at that moment had Harry confused, and he wondered what had happened.

Before he could think too much about it however, he noticed an opportunity to strike, and did so. The fight had been far more even-matched than he'd expected, and only when it was over and he, as the winner, had a chance to look things over did he realize why.

Rather than pink, Harry had suddenly found himself wearing a coat of fur of exactly the same shade, length, pattern, and overall appearance to that of his fallen foe; in fact, everything about him had suddenly changed to be exactly like that of a normal, if ill-tempered tom-cat.

With a few more (choice) attempts, Harry discovered that his new form was, in fact, a consummate Shape-Shifter. It came so easily and so naturally that it was honestly harder to stay pink and small than it was to take on the form of whatever he laid his eyes on; for nearly two weeks he was either human, or whatever animal he had run across last.

This, fortunately, was a habit he had either grown bored with or simply grown out of, since by the beginning of his third month he seemed to have gained full grasp of the abilities he was aware of.

Which was fortunate, since that was about the point when a member of the British Ministry came to fetch him.

Vernon was delighted at first, apparently believing that Harry was being arrested, but the Assistant to the Minister of Household Affairs was very quick to explain: "Actually, Mr. Dursley, it is for everyone's protection. See, a dangerous criminal, a murderer, escaped recently and we have reason to believe that he may be seeking out young Harry Potter."

Of course, this didn't really give Vernon or Petunia any reason to care, and Dudley was downright pleased at the news that Harry was being hunted by a mass-murderer, and the lot of them were about to express their feelings on the matter to the pleasant, smartly-dressed blonde woman before she, obviously having been well-prepared for this meeting, moved on, "We think it best if you and your family were not close to Harry, in the event that Mr. Black perform a repeat of his last-most killing and simply blow everyone up. If that were to happen, well..." The woman gave Dudley a meaningful look that sent a wind of white ash through Petunia's face, though Dudley was well-insulated from such ideas as 'danger' and 'collateral damage' by many layers of fat and a lifetime of being well-practiced in the art of 'Being Dense'.

Vernon, taking in his wife's ashen face and cold sweat, swallowed his previous insults and instead asked, "Where will he be taken? I have to warn you, he's a little-"

The woman interrupted him before he could come up with a proper insult, and simply explained, "He will be kept in a specially-designed area, indoors as much as possible and under heavy guard at all times. I'm afraid that his... well, his summer vacation isn't going to be much fun from this point on." She turned and gave Harry what seemed to be an apologetic look, but which Harry saw concealed a hidden wink.

There was silence for a moment as Petunia nervously fretted over her 'Duddykins', but Vernon thoughtfully interrupted it with a quiet question, "This... Black, person... just where did he escape from? The news didn't say."

The woman seemed to think this one over for a moment, then gave a small sigh, "Well, I'm not sure you've heard of it or not, but it's a Maximum Security penitentiary called 'Azkaban'."

Harry wasn't sure if Vernon's lack of understanding said anything at all, but when Aunt Petunia's eyes widened to nearly twice their size he became interested, though kept his silence (as it seemed to be working for him so far).

It was with a shaky voice that the tall, horse-like woman gasped lightly, "He came from... there?" She gave Dudley a haunted look, turned that look on a bewildered Vernon, then gave Harry a venomous glare, stood straight up, pointed at the stairs and nearly shouted, "Go get your things! You're leaving now! I will not have you endangering my family! Go with this Secretary or whatever woman and Get. Out!"

Harry was momentarily stunned, having planned to do that all along, but then Vernon settled the matter, "You heard her, boy, GO!"

Harry was glad that the Assistant to the Minister of Household Affairs was present, since the presence of a Government Official seemed to have stymied Uncle Vernon's rage, if only so he didn't purvey an image that would have hurt him in the long run.

Used to Uncle Vernon's bellowing, Harry nodded quickly and practically raced upstairs, packing all his things together into his trunk (which rather nicely held the entirety of his worldly possessions); he then was surprised to find that Uncle Vernon had volunteered to carry it out to the Assistant's waiting vehicle, a sleek black SUV with plenty of storage space behind its two seats (the rear seats having been apparently folded down to make for more room).

The Dursley's didn't give him a proper good-bye, of course, but he was glad for the send off just the same, climbing his way into the passenger's seat of the vehicle.

He waited for his driver to get settled in, curiously looking at the odd expanse of extra space in the back (the woman had apparently been expecting a bit more luggage than a single trunk, broom, and an owl's cage), before he started up a conversation.

"So, uh, miss...?"

Now that they were pulling away from Privet Drive, the Assistant to the Minister of Household Affairs gave Harry a quiet, honest smile, "Call me Cynthia; your uncle's type only respects titles, but I prefer names, do you mind if I call you Harry?"

"No, of course not."

She smiled again before putting her eyes back on the road, though her attention to the road didn't stop her from making conversation of her own, "So, Harry, is it true about how you got that scar on your forehead?"

Harry blinked with slight bewilderment, "You know about that?"

Cynthia nodded, still smiling, "Oh yes, I was actually into my third year at Hogwarts when it happened."

Harry's heart gave a great Lurch in his chest when he heard that, "You're a..?"

She nodded, "Yup, everyone in the Office of Household Affairs is at least part magical. We're mostly secret, though, only the Prime Minister knows much about us, other than those in the Ministry of Magic of course." She gave a quiet smile, though her eyes suddenly gave the sky a quick search, "See, I'm Muggleborn, and my parents saw to it that I got good Muggle teaching as well as Witchcraft teaching, so I hardly had a moment to myself that entire time; once I was out of Hogwarts I went on to a muggle law-school, hoping to improve relations between magic and non-magic folk, and, well, here I am!"

Harry was dumbstruck, he'd never imagined that the Wizarding world was, in fact, so heavily entrenched into the Muggle world; they'd always seemed to be so incredibly separate to him before now, "I'd never imagined."

But Cynthia didn't seem to be listening, "Where _are_ they?" She seemed to be juggling two tasks at once, driving and searching the sky while trying not to be seen searching the sky.

"Who?"

"You're going to be picked up soon and taken to Diagon Alley on broomstick, I'm only taking your luggage there. I can't guarantee your safety in this truck, especially as it's not enchanted at all, and going by broom will be much faster."

"Ah." And with that Harry determined to settle in and wait for the inevitable meeting.

"In fact, you might as well get that broom of yours out, as they're going to have you fly it yourself."

Harry nodded, suppressing the flutter of glee at the prospect, "Could I let Hedwig out as well? She hasn't had much chance to stretch her wings in... well, all summer actually."

Cynthia smiled, "I don't see why not. Ah, here we go, I'll just drop you off here."

As Cynthia pulled over, stopping at a corner that Harry recognized as having a Muggle repelling charm on it similar to what protected the Leaky Cauldron, a well-known entrance to the magical area of London known as 'Diagon Alley', Harry saw a pair of wizarding men.

The taller one, in a yellow robe, had a jovial air about him and waved at Harry as they pulled up, approaching the car with a few quick strides to introduce himself, "Hey! Harry Potter, it's an honor! I'm Ludo Bagman, and that nervous fellow back there is Minister Cornelius Fudge."

The now-named Minister Fudge gave an impatient snort, "Could we get on with it, Bagman? I don't like the feel of it out here, Black could be watching us as we speak!"

Bagman shook his head, "You worry too much, sir, but I agree. Better get on your broom, Harry; I hear you've got a Nimbus Two Thousand, right? And a good flier, right? That's good." Bagman nodded satisfactorily at Harry's own admission. "Now then, Minister?"

Minister Fudge gave another look around, then pulled out his wand, "Now stand still, we can't have muggles seeing us left and right." He then thwacked Harry over the head.

With the impact Harry suddenly had the feeling that something cold and slimy had been smashed over his head, and as he watched Minister Fudge repeat the spell over his and Mr. Bagman's heads, he knew what the purpose was: It wasn't quite so effective as his Invisibility Cloak but the effect was similar enough, effectively hiding them from any but the closest of inspections, and since they'd be moving very quickly and viewed only from below, it was a very good way of hiding in plain sight.

Harry mounted his broom, "I asked miss Cynthia already, but is it alright if I let Hedwig out of her cage? She hasn't been out to fly much lately."

Fudge didn't make any definitive noise, but Bagman chuckled, "I don't see why not, she isn't being targeted by anyone. Just make sure she knows to fly straight up for a bit."

Harry opened Hedwig's cage, "Hear that Hedwig? Fly straight up before going anywhere. I'll wait for you wherever we're going, alright?"

Hedwig gave a noise of impatience mixed with affection before launching off, going in a tight circle that carried her almost vertical for several hundred feet, followed closely by three wizards on broom before she leveled off.

"Stop here, Harry!"

Harry stopped, not bothering to look around for the older wizards, "Where are we going?"

A small red glow suddenly appeared before his eyes, "Follow this, you're a Seeker, right?" Bagman's voice seemed almost playful as he said this, but Fudge didn't seem as amused.

"We shouldn't play around, Mr. Bagman, I know you're a good flier but we can't risk being seen!"

Bagman's voice came back, a bit more serious but still seeming hardly affected by being told off, "If Harry's half as good as I've heard, then we should get there all the faster, just so long as your guard don't fall behind. Ready Harry?"

Harry nodded, though he wasn't sure if anyone could see, "Yeah."

The red light shot off, and Harry's instincts took over; he hardly remembered that there was a person holding that red light, barely noticed when it weaved through a forest at what was very close to his Nimbus's top speed, indeed had swiped at it several times, nearly snagging the wand guiding it at least twice before Bagman apparently stepped up on the speed, teasing Harry into squeezing the last bit of speed from his top-notch broom.

This wasn't the lock down he'd been expecting, it was quite frankly a treat like he'd never had any right to expect; being on his broom and flying at the very edge of lost control like this was what he longed for every day, at all times, and looked forward to only in his role as Seeker for the Gryffindor's Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

He hardly realized that he had a grin on his face and gleam in his eye that he'd have never noticed before, barely realized that he was making pleased noises as he chased the little light about through the air, and only when he realized in the periphery of his awareness that they were flying over London did he realize what was happening: His feline chasing instincts were amplifying his already remarkable Seeker instincts, driving him to levels of performance that he otherwise had no right to imagine.

He didn't think about Sirius Black, didn't remember that he had a Minister and his elusive Guard on his tail, didn't care that his head had passed within millimeters of several dozen large, heavy branches at what may have been more than a couple hundred kilometers-per-hour.

All he knew was that that little red light was right there in front of him, running from him, teasing him to catch it, practically begging to be caught.

Suddenly the light stopped and Harry swung himself downward, rotating underneath Mr. Bagman to grab at the light, which only became a wand in Harry's mind once he'd managed to actually snag it, pulling it with some force from the older wizard's hand.

Once Harry realized it was over he felt a rather intoxicating rush of the most wonderful feelings of triumph that he'd ever felt, followed by the purest giggling laughter that he'd ever been graced with, though he was thoughtful enough to give a nearly invisible blush as he flew back to where he guessed Mr. Bagman ought to be, holding the still glowing wand out, "Sorry, Mr. Bagman."

Harry felt more than saw the wand being taken from his hand, but the quiet laughter from nearly-empty air still made him feel good, "Definitely a Seeker. Come on, we should get inside, make sure you go straight down from here."

Harry did as told, and quickly touched down just beside a pair of seemingly blind muggles that passed by him without so much as a look; he went inside without a word, and was rewarded with another smack to the head that sent a wave of heat over his surprisingly cold body, revealing him in his normal colors once more, "Thanks."

The face of Mr. Bagman greeted him, smiling as brightly as ever and with a note of adoration that had been missing before, "Harry..." Bagman seemed to be trying to say something, but words had apparently failed, him, "That was amazing! You say you're only thirteen? Have you given thought to playing professionally? With skills like that you could have your pick of teams with only one show!"

Harry didn't get the chance to answer as just then an old, wizened, toothless man came up with a smile of his own, "Good to see you've arrived on time, Minister Bagman, would you like a seat? And where's Minister Fudge?"

Bagman nearly blushed, putting a hand behind his head with a laugh, "Ah, I think we may have lost him! He's sure to catch up, I'd bet."

Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, grinned again with a wave of the head, "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

Bagman shook his head, "A couple of Butterbeers, I think. And a private table, please."

Tom nodded and led them to a concealed table, where they were joined not long after by a flustered-looking Minister Fudge ("We got here quick, right?" "Yes, but next time mind the guard, you lost all but one by the city limits!")

Finally, Harry and the two adults settled into a quiet conversation, "Well then, Harry, I imagine you must be wondering what's going on?"

Harry nodded, "Sirius Black is after me."

Fudge recoiled as though surprised, "Ah, so you heard already. I suppose you know who he is as well then?"

Harry shook his head, "No, not really; I know he's an escaped murderer who blew up some people and escaped from some place called Azkaban, but nothing more."

Fudge nodded, still visibly shaken and shivering slightly, "Right, well first off Azkaban is England's Wizarding Prison, only the worst of wizarding criminals go there. Sirius Black he... well, he..."

Bagman finished the line that Fudge was seemingly too nervous to tell, "He was You-Know-Who's right-hand man, had a pretty big hand in your parents' killing; we think he's going to come after you to finish the job, and for revenge for his master perhaps."

Fudge nodded with conviction, "Yes, exactly; so you're going to stay here, at least until Hogwarts starts taking students again."

Bagman gave Harry a serious eye, "Harry I hate to say this, but this will likely be the last time you fly for quite a while, you aren't to go ANYWHERE without telling someone, and never, _ever_ leave Diagon Alley. Understand?"

Harry nodded slowly, taking in the serious tone the conversation had just taken; He-Knows-Who's right hand man was coming to kill him? '.. wow... that's just.. wow.'

Tom came to the table carrying a pair of Butterbeers and a pot of what looked like tea, "Drinks up, Ministers, Harry. And I've already had your things carried to your room, Harry, number Eleven." Tom set the drinks down and handed Harry a single key.

Bagman suddenly stood, "Actually Tom, I think it's time I left."

Fudge stood up only a moment afterward, "I agree."

Harry got the distinct impression that this entire affair had been planned out far ahead of time, "So where..?"

Tom grinned at him, "If you'll excuse us then, Ministers, I'll escort Mr. Potter to his room! Ah, don't forget your Butterbeer there, Harry."

Bagman chuckled, "Trust me, you'll appreciate the warm up after flying through the clouds all day." And with that he picked up the second butterbeer, took a deep swig and laid the half-empty mug down with a _clack_, gasping in satisfaction, "Hits the spot. Alright, after you then, Mr. Fudge?"

Fudge nodded, "Right." He gave Harry one last look, "Just stay in the wizarding areas, and don't go out after dark. Everything'll be alright, the Azkaban guards've never let anyone go free before, and I've never seen them so angry as recently." He hooked a pinstripe cloak around his shoulders, then swept along, "Well, let's go then Mr. Bagman."

Bagman gave Harry an encouraging smile, then swept after the Minister of Magic.

Harry was determined to stand there for a moment, silently going over what all had happened over the last few... minutes? Hours?

Then he sighed, "If that'd gone any faster my head would be spinning."

Tom chuckled as he gave Harry's shoulder a good, strong pat, "They'd been planning it for a few days now, quick as possible and all. Well, follow me and we'll get you to your room."

Harry silently did as told, remembering not to forget his Butterbeer.

* * *

><p>The last couple weeks of vacation went by in something of a whirl as Harry spent nearly all his time exploring Diagon Alley, partially getting his things for the coming year at Hogwarts ("So <em>that's<em> why Hagrid sent me that _Monster Book of Monsters!_"), part enjoying the simple company of being around other magical-folk ("Hah! Okay, here son, you just stroke the spine, see? Nice as a kitten now!"), and, perhaps most importantly, resisting the temptation to spend all his money on a new, faster, cooler broom ('Well, my Nimbus is hardly two years old, nearly the best there is i'n't it? No need for a new one, nope, even if it IS rather cool...'), or to buy a large pile of... things ('But it's so... jangly... Ohh I shouldn't come into the pet shop! Almost makes me wish Hedwig played with toys, then I'd have an excuse...').

Since he was staying in the only place for miles around that sold everything a Hogwarts student needed for a new year, he fully expected to see some of his classmates, of course; he was, in fact, looking forward to seeing his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, if only to surreptitiously ask them how their Animagi transformations were coming.

Of course, catching up in general would have been nice, but Harry had lately come across a bit of frustration with his transformation that prevented him from using it as much as he had over the previous summer months: He'd finally recognized that, even as an animal, he was still recognizable as Harry Potter. Put simply, his scar stayed in place and try as he might, unless he transformed into something else, he couldn't get rid of it.

Of course, so long as he left the door locked, he could still transform in his room, in private, but he so very much missed his nightly romps through the streets and alleys.

'But then, Ron said his was of a Lion, and it's kind of hard to hide something like that, but I don't think Hermione would have as much trouble.. unless she's kept her nose in a book all summer.' Harry snorted a bit of laughter at this thought, staring with amusement at his reflection.

He looked very little like a normal cat, of that there was no doubt; he had a face that might be similar enough, but his body was far too tear-drop shaped, and the fact that he found it very comfortable to stand vertically said something important he was sure, let alone that his forepaws seemed designed and worked much like somewhat chubby human hands.

His bright green eyes were framed by rings of fur that gave a sort of alluded impression of his glasses, and tufts of hair came out of the top of his head so as to remind one of his messy human hair, though most striking of all was the obvious, lightning-shaped scar at the top of his head, which no matter how he did it he didn't seem to have any way of hiding.

He supposed he could turn himself into a normal cat, or an owl or something else readily available in Diagon Alley, but it just wouldn't have been the same; after weeks of getting enough control of his transformations to be able to prevent them, he didn't feel up to spending all his time as something else on Purpose!

Fortunately, other than the fact that he seemed to need very little sleep, he was perfectly comfortable in the little wizarding corner of London. Muggle London may have had its own excitements, of course, but wizarding London's excitements tended to be a lot more... well, exciting.

Even if he wasn't allowed to go flying.

"There it is! HEY, HARRY!" Harry heard a familiar voice through his door, then the unmistakable sound of knocking; fortunately he hadn't put up the 'undisturbable' sign, which would have blocked out the noise, though he HAD locked the door so no one was likely to come barging in on him in the wrong form.

Harry changed back at once with a grin, then unlocked the door and flung it open, revealing Ron and Hermione, along with a few redheads that Harry recognized as being part of Ron's family; his older brothers Fred and George and his younger sister Ginevra, "Hey guys, fancy seeing all of you here! I was looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, how'd you know I was here?"

Ron grinned, "Dad."

Fred and George did a sort of double-grin, "Oh yes," "Quite useful!" "Having a dad in-" "-the Ministry, eh?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "You two are entirely too good at that."

Ginny gave her brothers her own displeased look, "They've been doing it all summer, as if they haven't been getting yelled at enough."

One of the twins gave Ginny an interesting, nearly teasing look, "Oh dear sister," "Have you still not forgiven us-" "-for your unfortunate Wardrobe-" "-Malfunction?"

Harry gave the bunch of them a puzzled look at this until, just as Ginny seemed close to yelling at her brothers, Ron gave an explanation, "They charmed her Wardrobe to only give her winter clothes and coats... in mid July."

Hermione gave something of a disgusted gasp, "But she'd overheat!" Then she turned on the ones responsible, "Are you trying to give her a stroke! You should be more responsible!"

Ron leaned toward Harry a bit, "That's what mum said, too. Then Ginny had her turn, I don't think she's forgiven them yet."

Ginny gave her brothers an evil glare, "Yet." There was malice smoldering below that word, Harry just knew it.

Ron leaned in to quietly explain once more, "She gets a free shot at them."

Fred and George nodded in tandem, "Yes, we await your prank-back, dear sister!" "We promised it, after all it's only fair!"

Hermione looked confused at this, "Prank-back?"

Again, Ron claimed the position of explanator, "Fred and George felt so bad about almost hurting Ginny that they promised they wouldn't do anything if she pranked them one back."

Hermione sighed, "Is that _all_ your family does? Prank one-another?"

Ron grinned, "Charlie and the twins used to run at it all the time, now it's the twins and Ginny, though the twins just prank everyone."

Fred crossed his arms and puffed himself up with a grin, "Including each-other!" George joined in with, "Right you are, brother-mine!"

Ginny rolled her eyes, Hermione huffed with a similar reaction, but Ron simply snorted, "Well it's great to catch up and all, but are we going to get on with it?" He gave Harry a sort of apologetic grin, "We came to get you before going out to get our books. I'll bet you've already got yours though, haven't you?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I've had plenty else to do, though."

Hermione gave him a sidelong look, "Like your homework?"

Harry grinned, "Absolutely."

Ron, still grinning, shook his head and waved down the hall, "Come on, let's get going, we've got a lot to get, and I plan to at least get a cone of ice cream." Ginny and Hermione followed him down the hall, though the twins held Harry back for a moment.

"Just a moment, Harry ol' boy." "Got a question for you."

Harry looked to either side, at the two taller boys that were each holding one shoulder, "Yeah?"

The twins gave him a pair of mock-serious looks, "When were you going to-" "-tell us you were an-" "Animagus?"

Harry stared at them for a moment, then he said, "Ron?"

Fred dropped his scowl for a grin, "We're a lot better at getting things out of him.."

George crossed his arms with a nod, "Than he is at keeping things from us."

Harry shook his head with a smile, "Alright then, I'm an Animagus."

Fred raised an eyebrow, "Figured out the change yet, then?"

George mirrored his brother, "And what's it look like?"

Harry smiled, "Yes, and small, fuzzy and bright pink. Wanna see?"

Before the twins could say much, Harry had backed into his room, beckoning them inside where he closed and locked the door. He then changed without a word.

They stared for a few moments longer than was probably necessary, grins growing wider with each moment, "Wow, mate, you weren't kidding about the pink."

"Any idea what you are?"

Harry shook his head, though he did get on all fours and give a cry, "Mew!" He then flicked an ear and waved his tail a bit.

One of them shook his head, "You're definitely not a cat, or at least no cat I've ever heard of."

"You look like one of them things from that Austria place. What's it called? A Cargorood?"

Harry looked at them while fighting the temptation to tell them off, though he did get back to two feet and look himself over, having to agree with the comparison to a Kangaroo. Then he changed back, "No, I'm definitely some kind of cat, I just don't know what kind. And it's a Kangaroo from Australia."

As Harry led the way downstairs, the brothers had one last word, "I don't know, mate, that wasn't any cat I've ever heard of." "Even the magical ones."

Ron, who heard the tail end of this conversation, sighed, turned to Hermione, and muttered, "They're comin' for you next."

Ginny huffed, "Come on, we've only got a few hours before mum wants us back here."

Fred and George then said perhaps the most sensible thing they'd say all day, "Let's get our books first," "Then we'll know how much we have left," "And have a bit of time to," "Look around." Of course, the tone and look of these last two lines left no doubt that the twins had places in mind to 'look around'.

Harry led the lot of them to the bookstore, where Ginny seemed to be the only one not picking up a copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_; the proprietor was rather frazzled at the idea at first, that is until Harry picked out the first one and showed everyone the trick that he'd picked up outside Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor one day, "You just stroke the spine like this a couple of times and it calms down... see?" He set the book down as it flopped calmly open, opening to a page about a Vampire's wolf form and speculation about a link to Werewolves. "I saw someone do it outside Florean Fortescue's one morning."

The manager smiled, wrestled a book from the cage, then tried the same thing, "Marvelous!" Handing that one to one of the twins, he then simply stuck his heavily gloved hand in the cage and gave the spine of a passing book a quick stroke and it fell to the bottom, limp as a newspaper, "Why didn't anyone tell me about that before!?"

Harry shrugged, "I'd figured you ought to already know."

The manager was too happy to be angry for long, "Now if I could only find those _Invisible Books of Invisibility_ I'd be set!"

Harry tilted his head curiously, "Have you tried dusting the place with flour?"

The manager was about to start on about the mess that would create, but then stopped as Fred and George snickered off to the side, "Brilliant Harry!" "What will you think of next?"

Harry gave them wry looks, "You don't want to know."

Once all the _Monster Books_ had been pacified, it took the lot of them a little over a half hour to get all of the rest of their school-books, and from there they split off with Ginny mentioning something about a new robe while Ron and Hermione dragged Harry off to the Magical Creature shop, Hermione asking about owls and Ron muttering about Egypt not agreeing with Scabbers, his pet rat.

Harry wasn't sure he was ready to admit why he was so reluctant to visit the Magical Menagerie, but once there he figured it didn't matter, as they were both too busy with their own affairs to notice the longing looks that Harry was giving the various toys scattered about the store.

His favorite, of course, was something that looked like a jungle-gym except covered in carpet, most likely for cats; it had three thick, hollow towers with openings for a critter to crawl inside, a half-dozen little platforms, a bunch of posts (very scratchable), and it even had a pair of spindles coming out the top, apparently magically dangling a pair of brown canvas bags with fake mouse ears, throwing them in wide arcs between the many platforms and creating a unique environment that Harry could only really dream about. That along with all the other little moving plastic bits, bells, whistles, fake mice, _real_ mice... Harry's instincts always seemed to go crazy in the Magical Menagerie, and it didn't help that there seemed to be a smell in the place that made his head spin slightly.

"Harry?" Ron's voice seemed to carry to him from far off, "Harry, are you alright?"

He smiled, "Oh, hi Ron? Got your owl? How's Grabbers?"

Ron frowned, "Hermione was getting the owl, Harry, and Scabbers is going to be fine."

"Right, let's go then!" Harry was both glad and sad to be leaving...

"Hold on, Hermione hasn't come out ye-ACK! Hermione! I thought you were getting an Owl!"

Harry looked to the large, heavy-looking ginger cat in Hermione's arms, "Hey, it's Crookshanks! Hi Crookshanks!"

Crookshanks, a wrinkly, torn, grizzled cat the size of a medium dog with something of a squashed-in face gave Harry a look and growled, making Harry laugh nervously, "Yeah, well, I couldn't help it..."

Hermione, looking rather pleased with herself led the way out of the store, "Come on, I think I've got just enough left over for some ice cream!"

Harry's head cleared nearly the instant it was outside of the pet shop, and once it had he found himself reacting to the odd stares of his friends, which made him laugh nervously, "Haha, well, I.." He lowered his voice a bit, "I'm a cat, so I think it's the catnip, it makes everything spin a bit..."

Hermione gave Ron a worried look, but Ron seemed to take the explanation at face value, "Which reminds me, Hermione have you finished yours? I can't seem to get the hang of mine, though that's part from not having a moment to myself all summer."

Hermione straightened herself out with something of a haughty air, "Of course I have," She gave Harry an eye, "Though mine hasn't carried over nearly as much as Harry's seems to have."

Ron waved it all off, "You two are lucky, then, I haven't gotten any more than a furry arm."

Hermione crouched down to let Crookshanks walk beside her, "Now don't go running off, alright Crookshanks?" Crookshanks gave Scabbers a withering look, prompting him to cower in Ron's pocket, but both pets seemed to be handling the arrangements relatively well. Hermione gave Harry an inquisitive look, "Have you figured out what breed you've got, then?"

Harry shook his head ruefully, "No, I was hoping you could help me with that; pretty sure it's magical, though."

Hermione's eye's seemed to gain something of a sparkling, sharp look that signified her intense curiosity had been sparked, "What makes you say that?"

Harry grinned, "I'll show you later."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Right, maybe you two can help me with mine then."

Hermione nodded, "Absolutely! But first, I want something with Strawberry!"

And thus the three of them had some sweet stuff at Florean Fortescue's.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 2<p>

* * *

><p>I think that's about as far as I'm going to go for this chapter.<p>

Before I stop entirely, though, a few notes:

Some parts of this chapter differ from Canon for a few good reasons, the largest of which is Harry's changed attitude; since he's more level-headed he didn't blow up Aunt Marge, which means he didn't run from the Dursley's, which means he didn't give the Ministry reason to believe that he'd been chased off by Sirius Black, which means that they didn't have reason to panic and take him out without a plan, which means they had a plan, which means the whole affair was much more enjoyable. Ludo Bagman was there, as described, as an excellent flier that could get them from place to place with a minimum of fuss, whereas Cornelius Fudge was there as a sort of rear guard, providing additional security for the flight, though that part seems to have fallen to pieces when Harry and Bagman got carried away with being Seekers. As Bagman is the Minister in charge of sporting events, I also figure he already has a Firebolt; he more-or-less kept things relatively slow so as not to burn out Harry's Nimbus, but as the two really weren't made that far apart I figure the difference wouldn't be that much to begin with.

I'm willing to bet, at the moment, that Harry will be seeing Draco in the next chapter but I make no guarantees, especially seeing as I'd wanted to have this one get them to the Hogwarts Express, and that didn't happen did it?

Oh well, onward and upward then!

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	3. Summertime's End

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermoine to help... this changes them... a lot.

Notes after the end. This is the longest chapter yet, and it took an awful lot of time to get it properly edited, so I hope you like it!

* * *

><p>Chapter 3 : Summertime's End<p>

* * *

><p>After finishing their frozen treats, Harry, Ron and Hermoine retired to the Leaky Cauldron, finding themselves locked away in Harry's room for a bit of privacy. Ron and Hermione's pets were locked away in their own rooms, Ron having just finished giving Scabbers his first ever dose of Rat tonic, which had apparently tired the poor thing out to the point to falling asleep in his cage; Crookshanks was harder to convince, as cats often are, but had apparently decided that lazing about for a bit would be just fine.<p>

As Harry worked to put the Undisturbable sign up and lock the door, Ron looked around the room, "Gee Harry, I never knew you'd make such a mess; and what's with all the toys? Got kids comin' to visit?"

Harry had the decency to blush at that one, "No, they're mine; most of them the Dursleys gave me, probably trying to make me feel stupid." He picked up something that looked like a stylized clown that squeaked when squeezed, "Like they were calling me a baby or something."

Hermoine puffed a bit, "What? That's horrible!"

Ron frowned as well, "Surprised you didn't throw it all out, mate."

Harry smiled brightly, "On the contrary! You should have seen their faces when I thanked them, you'd have thought they'd just seen someone escape from the Nutter Bin!" He chuckled lightly as he squeezed the toy, actually putting it in his mouth and giving it a nice chew.

Ron gave his friend an odd look, one eyebrow raised, "You sure you haven't, mate?"

Harry snorted, pulling the slightly slimy toy from his mouth, "Wait till you see my change, less than a cat I think it's more of a kitten, really. I just want to play all the time."

Hermoine's eyes gave another curious look as she crossed her arms, "Well show us, then."

Harry smiled nervously, "Alright." He then shrank, and an instant later stood; at hardly a foot tall, with feet longer than his entire arms and a long, knob-ended tail floating nearly three feet behind him, he made quite a... well, new sight.

Hermoine reacted first, "Never seen a cat like that, you look more like a Kangaroo." Harry mewed his indignation, "Well at least you sound like a cat, but cat's also don't normally stand upright or have hands." She circled her friend a bit as Ron came in for a closer inspection.

Perhaps expectedly, the first thing he noticed was Harry's forehead, "Nice scar, mate." Harry fingered his scar, doing his best to look chagrined, "Guess it's not much of a disguise if everyone knows who you are the second they see you, eh?"

Harry shrugged, then with a grin he suddenly launched himself into the air, landing strongly on Ron's shoulder, from which he climbed around a bit until he was splayed out over his friend's head, "Mew!"

Ron crossed his eyes, trying to see the smiling expression on the pink kitten's face, "Man, you're lucky you're small; just from how much my arm changes I think mine must be half as big as a house! At least you're small enough to hide if you wanted."

Hermoine scratched Harry between the ears, eliciting a pleased purring before she said, "You said you might be magical, Harry?"

Harry melted with the attention, having never received anything like it up until then, but he did manage to smile brightly and slide off the front of Ron's head; Ron, bless his heart, panicked and plucked him out of the air before he hit the ground, but Harry simply hopped from his arms and regrew to his human form, "Yeah, but you go first, Hermoine." He had an almost conspiratorial grin planted on his face as he focused on his friend, who huffed.

"Oh, fine, but you'd better keep your word about showing us." And with that, Hermoine shrank, growing smaller, smaller, and smaller until she was barely any larger than Harry had been.

She looked up just in time to see Harry joining her near the floor, smiling like the cat that wanted to play with the canary, Ron going to his knees to give her a good looking over.

"Blimey Hermoine, your hair's even bushier!"

Hermoine snorted, pushing her forepaws against Ron's side, nearly unbalancing him; she had to agree, of course, as her animal form seemed to have a mane that belonged better on a lion, not on some sort of puppy with short (though powerful) legs and a tail even bushier than her mane. Standing on all fours she was a bit shorter than Harry standing upright, but overall looked just a bit larger, with brown fur on her back and tail mixing with white on her belly, paws, muzzle and the tip of her tail, an additional bit of black at the tips of her relatively long, pointed ears.

There was a flash of light and Hermoine kicked back, letting loose with a startled "Vee!" When she'd turned enough to look at where the flash had come from, she was struck silent.

Ron, however, wasn't, "Blimey! Hermoine there's two of you! Harry, you're a shape shifter!"

Harry didn't give them any time to get over the shock before he suddenly tackled Hermoine with a smile, sending the two of them rolling across the floor to Ron's shocked chagrin, "Hey, someone'll hear you!"

Harry and Hermoine didn't seem to care, having taken to running about the room, calling each-other excitedly, chattering "Veevee-Eevee!" and variations on that one syllable that shouldn't have been possible, though Ron simply got the feeling that he, for once, seemed to be the only one with any sense left.

"We're going to be late for supper at this rate!" Growing impatient, Ron grabbed the one that was chasing the other, pulling it into the air, "C'mon, Harry, leave her alone and change back."

Suddenly the one on the ground flashed and changed back into the little pink creature it'd been before, and Ron was left giving Hermoine, who'd been chasing Harry in a distinctly non-Hermoine way, a surprised, confused look. Noting the impatient, testy look that the little puppy was giving him, he muttered a quick "Sorry." and set her down, where she quickly changed back into a human.

Hermoine gave Harry a look, "You could have warned me, you know."

Harry gave a pink grin, then took a couple of single-footed hops to land on her shoulder before giving her a single lick and hopping back down, not noticing the looks of embarrassment on either Ron or Hermoine's faces.

Hermoine recovered first, "Well, you're definitely magical, we just need to figure out where you come from and try to figure out what you are; Shape Shifters are pretty rare, though, and hard to spot."

Ron shook his head, "And don't forget you two've got to help me with mine."

Harry nodded distractedly, looking off toward one corner of the room, as though not really seeing it, "Mew, mew-mew."

Ron raised an eyebrow, "Something wrong, Harry?"

Harry didn't really move, "Mew, memew-mew."

Ron screwed up his eyebrows, "What? Change back before you talk."

Harry shook his head with exasperation, looking up into Ron's eyes, repeating "Mew, memew-mew." He then turned to the door, regrew into a human and opened the door, revealing Percy standing there looking surprised at the door opening itself, one hand in knocking position. "Hullo Percy, need something?"

Percy shook it off, "We're eating supper in the bar, and then You, Ron, need to pack." Percy gave Ron a frustrated look, then looked with displeased curiosity at the room that the three friends had been found in, "What have you three been doing in here? Entertaining children?"

Ron and Hermoine didn't have a direct answer, but Harry wasted no time in rolling his eyes and saying, "Playing, catching up. Want to join in?"

Percy didn't look happy, indeed looked displeased, but had nothing against showing it, "I don't know what nonsense you're _really_ up to, but I won't have it at Hogwarts; I'm Head Boy this year, and I won't have you all reflecting badly on me, understand?"

Harry noticed, for the first time, the shining badge on the breast of Percy's jacket, "Wow, Head Boy. Wasn't Bill a Head Boy?"

Percy threw his nose in the air, as though he smelled something distasteful, "Yes, and I imagine I'll be the last; Fred and George certainly aren't going down the right road for it."

Ron rolled his eyes with exasperation, "Just go, Percy, and tell mum we'll be right down."

Percy's eyes held a hint of darkness for a moment, but he acquiesced, "Fine, just don't take forever." And with that he was gone.

Ron closed the door before anyone else could say anything, then turned on Harry, "Harry, how'd you do that?"

Harry blinked, "Do what?"

Ron frowned, as though growing angry, "First you knew Percy was coming, didn't you? I didn't hear a thing, and you had the Undisturbable sign up so neither could you." Harry nodded, making to explain, but Ron cut him off, "And then, that second time when you looked at me, I heard what you said, even though you didn't really say it. Can you read minds now, too?"

Harry and Hermoine were both caught by surprise at this, though Hermoine turned an inquisitive eye on Harry, "Well?"

Harry thought for a moment, "I don't know, I could always sense people in that form, it was the only way I could keep my homework hidden from Aunt Petunia, but I've never tried to talk to anyone like that before. I've mostly avoided everybody." He tilted his head, "Well, humans anyway. I understand most animals just fine."

Hermoine opened the door, "Well we'd better get downstairs, we can talk about this _later_, alright?"

Ron gave Harry a look, and Harry reflected a somewhat helpless smile, scratching the back of his head, "Yeah, later then."

As they made their way to the bar, Hermoine started up another conversation, "Why would you have to hide your homework from your Aunt?"

Harry shrugged, "The Dursley's forbade me from doing my homework because it's magic. I managed to sneak it off, but they got suspicious so I had to hide it most of the time."

Mrs. Weasley spoke about that time, "They forbade you from your homework? Don't those muggles value education at _all_?!"

Harry had to resist the temptation to snort, "They think Dudley's a smart boy when he can barely add two and three and takes a half hour to count all his birthday presents. If I went to a muggle school they'd probably call me a showoff if I did more homework than he does, which wouldn't be hard since he doesn't do any."

Mr. Weasley nodded from a table that the rest of the family had gathered around, "Yes, that sounds about what I'd expect from what I'd heard of them. That Vernon fellow doesn't even know how to use the muggle tools he makes, does he?"

Harry no longer had the strength to resist a snort, "I doubt it. He got the company from his dad, claims to be hard-working but I don't think I've ever seen him so much as lift a finger for himself."

Mrs. Weasley fussed over everyone as they sat down, "Alright, enough talk about nasty muggles, we'd best get everyone fed and to bed. We're leaving bright and early tomorrow, right Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley nodded sagely, "Yes, the Ministry's letting me use a couple of their cars to carry us all."

Everyone looked up at him, and Percy voiced the question, "Why?"

"It's because of you, Perce," George answered evenly, "And there'll be little flags on the hoods with HB on them-"

"For Humongous Bighead." Fred finished curtly.

Everyone except for Percy and Mrs. Weasley snorted as they pretended to be eating, making Percy crank up the haughtiness as though trying to show he wasn't affected by any joking around, "Why are the Ministry providing cars, father?"

Mr. Weasley played with his food a bit, "Well, as we haven't got one anymore, and as I work there, they're doing me a favor."

Mrs. Weasley huffed, "And it's a good thing, too, with all the luggage you lot've got! You'd be quite the sight, going through the Muggle Underground!"

It was Mr. Weasley that made the point after that, "And we will be leaving pretty early, so you're all packed already, aren't you?"

Harry shook his head, "I'm mostly packed, but I've got a bit of mess to pick up first."

Percy gave Ron a long-suffering look, "And Ron's just dumped all his new things on my bed."

Mrs. Weasley sighed, "Well you'd better be all packed before bed, and make sure you don't forget anything this time, your father and I can't be Apparating all over the place taking you whatever you've lost."

After that talk moved to easier subjects, such as information on some of the Ministers in the Ministry of Magic, information on the Office of Household Affairs, questions about how things had gone in Egypt, and perhaps most oddly, questions about magical creatures from abroad. This last wouldn't have been quite so odd if Harry hadn't shown so much interest in central and south American creatures.

"Yes, well, the Chupacabra is relatively harmless. They suck blood, alright, but usually they only attack animals and the such, and surviving an attack doesn't turn you into one like with a Vampire." Mr. Weasley gave Harry a sort of fatherly grin, "You really should ask your Care of Magical Creatures professor about all this, he might appreciate your curiosity."

Fred rolled his eyes, "With _The Monster Book of Monsters_ as required reading-" "There's no telling what he'll be like."

Mr. Weasley laughed, "I suppose you'll see."

Percy cut into his meal with a sudden disdain, "Well, so long as he's not another one like last year's Defense Against Dark Arts professor, I won't argue."

Mrs. Weasley suddenly prickled, "Oh don't even Mention him! Seven overpriced books of lies! He's only lucky he can't remember anything, or else I'd give him a piece of my mind!"

"Of course, mother-" "We've noticed you still _have_ his books.." Fred and George gave their mother a pair of amused grins.

Mrs. Weasley looked flustered, "Well we did buy them, so there's no use in throwing all that money down the drain. Besides, it may not have been _his_ information, but it is real."

Ginny was the one who spoke then, "Yes, you just have to look really, really hard for the useful bits. All those smiling pictures always get in the way."

Fred smiled at his sister, "Didn't fall for his charms then, dear sister?"

George mirrored his brother's smile, "No, dear brother, she's got _another_ celebrity to blush about."

Ginny huffed with a blush as red as her hair, seemingly lost for words until their mother cut in, "You two leave your sister alone."

"Sorry mum." But they didn't look very sorry, Fred giving Harry a wink as everyone returned to their supper.

Harry, however, turned to Ron, "Come to think of it, you haven't told me much about Egypt, how was that?"

Ron actually rolled his eyes, "It was nice to see Bill, but it was hot and dry, and I don't think I was smart enough to understand a word of what the tour guides were saying."

Mrs. Weasley seemed put-off at this, "Oh, Ron..."

Fred and George, though, only grinned, "Come off it, little brother." "You're just sore you couldn't get more privacy." "And we don't blame you!" "Stuck with Percy all summer!" "I can only imagine the horror!" "I'll bet he even talks about his badge in his sleep.."

Percy nearly growled at this, "Oh come off it, you two."

Of course, now it was Ron's turn to grin, "Confidentially," he murmured none-too-quietly to Harry, "He does." Ginny giggled.

Finally everyone had been fed and were happily patting their stomachs, Mrs. Weasley admonishing Fred and George for their burping contest before hurrying everyone upstairs to be packed.

When he got back to his room Harry found Hedwig in her cage and gave her head an affectionate pat, "Well Hedwig, we go to Hogwarts tomorrow. Think you're ready for another year?" Hedwig gave a hoot, "Yeah, me either. Something seems different I think, got a funny feeling in my stomach."

Shaking his head, Harry turned to the mess in his room, "Well, best get picked up. Can't go around carrying all this in my teeth, can I?" Hedwig hooted with amusement, knowing from experience that Harry periodically did exactly that.

It only took a few minutes for Harry to be done picking up, and once he was he realized that he was hearing yelling from through the wall. Going out to investigate he found that Ron and Percy's room had the door ajar, and the two of them were shouting about something.

"It was right here on my bedside, I was going to polish it!" Percy was slightly red in the face as he shouted at Ron.

Ron was even more red-faced than his brother, "Look I didn't touch it, alright!"

Harry decided to break in at this point, "Is something wrong?"

Percy rounded on Harry, "My Head Boy badge is missing!"

Ron was rifling through his own things, "So's Scabbers' rat tonic, I think I left it in the bar."

Percy turned to his brother again, "Oh no, you're staying here until my badge's been found!"

Harry sighed, "I'll go get Scabbers' stuff, Ron."

He continued to hear the brothers shouting well into the stairwell.

After about halfway to the bar angry voices from behind started getting drowned out by angry voices from the bar, as it seemed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were arguing about something; he didn't want to disturb them until he'd heard his name, though once he had he'd instinctively changed into his Animagus form in an attempt to hide.

"Arthur the truth would _terrify_ him!"

Harry's attention wavered from the conversation for a moment, realizing that hiding as he was wouldn't do much good as he put one hand to his scar.

"For heavens sake he's _happy_ not knowing!"

'And how would she know that?' Harry only had room for one side thought, however, as he worked out how to better hide, concentrating on a picture in his mind.

"-Forbidden Forest. But Harry mustn't do that this year! When-"

Harry walked out, boldly and calmly walking up behind the pair of them, listening with only half his mind on the conversation, the rest of him looking for Ron's rat tonic, honestly caring very little about how mad Sirius Black was; it wasn't as though he hadn't already gotten the gist of it from the public records he'd dug up after the Ministers had piqued his interest.

"But no one's really sure he's after Harry.. oh, hello. You're Hermoine's cat, aren't you? What's the name..."

"Crookshanks, I believe."

"Crookshanks, yes. Hello Crookshanks."

Harry greeted them as a cat would, by almost totally ignoring them, going straight for the rat tonic that'd been forgotten on the table.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at him, "Going to take Ron his tonic, are you? Thank you, Crookshanks. Maybe with a bit of help he'll actually be all packed up this time."

Harry gave the two of them silent looks, then grabbed the bottle and jumped back off the table.

Mr. Weasley watched him go, "That was a Kneazle, wasn't it?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded silently, "Yes, or at least half I think."

"Clever girl."

"Very."

Mr. Weasley continued his tirade then, "Anyway, Molly, I keep telling you, Fudge didn't want it in the papers because he didn't want to start a panic, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards said he'd been muttering in his sleep, always the same thing 'he's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts'. Black is demented and he-" Harry heard no more as he continued on down the hall, where he found Fred and George sniggering outside Ron and Percy's room, where Percy was still tearing the place to pieces looking for his badge.

Curious, Harry went into his room, dropped the tonic, changed to human, and came back out, giving the two of them dubious looks, which Fred responded to with, "We took it." He seemed quite proud, "We've been improving it."

Fred showed Harry the badge, it now read 'Bighead Boy'.

Harry let a laugh slip, then went into the room, gave Ron his rat tonic, and went back to his own room.

Unfortunately, sleep was not easy to come by for him of late, so instead he pulled out a random book from his growing collection and started reading. When the magical lights went out, likely forced out by the bar staff (or perhaps the Weasley parents), Harry simply pulled out a muggle flashlight and kept going, noting idly that the bulb had actually been lit slightly before he'd even turned it on, likely reacting to the magic in the air.

An hour later, he moved onto the next book. Another hour, another book. Finally, at around three in the morning he turned to the oddest book in his collection, that _Monster Book of Monsters_ that Hagrid had given him.

Stroking the spine, Harry opened the pages and started flipping through them, picking up entire pages in mere seconds, slowing down only for the more interesting bits.

Unfortunately, it didn't have anything that helped him much, which about leveled with what he'd gleaned from it from previous readings, so at a little before four he finally turned out the lights and went to sleep.

* * *

><p>As usual, Tom found Harry the next morning already awake and active, looking his room over for forgotten toys or discarded garbage, grateful for the glass of orange juice that, while sweet, was without caffeine. (Why Tom now insisted on keeping him from caffeine he didn't know; it wasn't as though there was anything wrong with climbing all over the buildings, was there?)<p>

Harry was just getting his trunk closed when Ron stumbled into his room, pulling a sweater over his head and complaining about his brother, "The sooner we get to Hogwarts the better," he huffily thrust his forehead toward his and Percy's room, "Now he's blaming me for dropping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," he grimaced, "his _girlfriend_. She's hiding outside the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy."

Harry chuckled but stayed silent as the twins came in to congratulate their 'dear brother' on aggravating Percy yet again.

Much of the rest of the time until the cars arrived was spent getting all of their luggage downstairs, including all the owls in their cages and a large wickerwork basket, which kept spitting and growling despite Hermione, who was cooing relaxing promises to Crookshanks to Ron's consternation.

Finally, Mr. Weasley interrupted, saying "They're here." And after loading up their things the bunch of them were suddenly practically flying through the streets of Muggle London, seemingly almost magically flitting through traffic with hardly a nod to Muggle traffic laws until finally, after much dizziness and bleariness they reached King's Cross, where they made their way to Platform nine-and-three-quarters, going through the barrier two at a time so as not to arouse suspicion.

Percy's eyes instantly lit up the moment they laid upon a long haired girl that Harry recognized from previous years as being a Ravenclaw girl, leaving some of the others behind to laugh to his back.

Harry, Ron and Hermoine made their way toward the rear of the train, where they found a relatively empty cabin and loaded their luggage before going back to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for some good-byes, where Mrs. Weasley gave a bunch of them sandwiches and hugs.

Before Harry himself could get on the train, however, Mr. Weasley brought him to a corner, "Harry, could I have a word with you?"

"Sure." Harry agreed and allowed Mr. Weasley to lead him away, where he seemed to be having some trouble getting what he wanted to say out, so Harry decided to give him a prod, "Better make it quick or the train'll leave."

"Hah, right. Alright, I think I can trust you with this. See, Sirius Black is after you, and you alone, Harry. See, he was, er.."

"Voldemort?"

Mr. Weasley flinched, "No, not him so much as his right-hand-man, probably the most talented Dark Wizard ever next to You-Know-Who himself. I want you to stay within watching distance of Dumbledore and _don't leave Hogwarts_, alright? No midnight romp in the Forbidden Forest, and if Dumbledore lets you go to Hogsmeade, you'd better stick close to the professors, got it?"

Harry nodded, then his eyes crossed of their own accord, "Oh... I just realized, I never got the form back from Uncle Vernon, and I somehow doubt he signed it anyway..."

Mr. Weasley raised an eyebrow, "Do you want me to see about it?"

Harry shook his head, "No don't bother, if it's all that dangerous I don't know if it's smart to be running about out there anyway. Kind of surprised they let me around Surrey as much as I was that week."

Mr. Weasley shook his head as Mrs. Weasley started over toward them, "Black is heading for Hogwarts, he knows you're there, didn't know about the Dursleys; he'll be coming for you there, so stay safe."

"Arthur, what are you doing!? He's going to miss the train!"

Mr. Weasley started gently pushing Harry back toward the train, "Alright Molly, he's coming. Better get a move along, Harry." But before Harry could get too far, he leaned down, "Just promise me, whatever you do, don't go _looking_ for him, alright? No matter what you hear, don't go trying to find him, got it?"

Harry gave Mr. Weasley a curious, inaffirmative look as he edged away, train whistling, "I'd better go."

Harry ran off toward the closing-up train, just making it inside before a guard came along to lock the doors.

"Well, we'd best find a compartment." And such they did, scouring the train looking for that one last compartment that wasn't full, finally settling on one at the very back of the train that had only one sleeping occupant, an adult called 'Professor R. J. Lupin'.

"I don't recognize him?"

Hermoine huffed a bit, "Must be new, probably filling the Defense Against Dark Arts position."

Ron gave the man a dubious look, eying his shredded, patched robes; his frayed, dissolving suitcase, and his poorly-kept, graying hair, "I hope he's up to it, looks like one good hex'd do him in, doesn't it?"

Harry shook off the new professor's interesting appearance, "At any rate, Ron your dad just told me that Sirius Black is apparently going to come to kill me at Hogwarts."

Harry hardly seemed to feel the need to worry, but judging by the bedlam that this one line created in his friends (and one younger sister of a friend), one would think that he'd just told them Voldemort had come back into power. To be honest, it entertained Harry just how much they were reacting, and how much fuss could be created with a single sentence.

"Oh Harry, how can you be so calm?"

Harry shrugged, "Well, I figure Voldemort-" There was a flinch through the room that even the sleeping Professor joined in on, "was afraid of Dumbledore, why should Black be any better off?"

Hermoine huffed, seemingly wondering why she had to suffer with such thoughtlessness, "Yes but Harry, Black is _desperate_, and his time at Azkaban has probably driven him _mad_! That place is no ordinary prison, it's guarded by special creatures that all wizards fear more than any other. Harry, if he sees you he probably isn't going to care about Dumbledore!"

Harry shrugged, "At any rate, I won't be going to Hogsmeade either, it'd be too dangerous I imagine, and I never did get my permission form back from Uncle Vernon."

Suddenly Ron's eyes widened even more than they had from the news about Sirius Black, "Oh Harry don't say that! You _have_ to visit Honeydukes! Professor McGonagall will let you go, or Dumbledore, right?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I don't think so. I've got other things in mind anyway." Harry gave Ron and Hermoine meaningful looks and they acquiesced, Ron seeming to accept the explanation.

"Oh, well, I'll make sure to get you something really special, right?" Ron gave Harry the most apologetic look he'd ever worn, and Harry shook his head ruefully as Hermoine fumbled with the straps of Crookshanks' basket.

"You aren't letting it out, are you?" Ron was eying Crookshanks' basket warily, "Cats _eat_ rats, and Scabbers needs relaxation, not eaten!"

Hermoine rolled her eyes, "Well he can't be cooped up all day, can he?" She cooed to Crookshanks as the big ginger cat came from his basket, jumping on Ron's lap before being pushed off and allowed (grudgingly) in a seat not far from him.

Harry shook his head, "Crookshanks, I know he reminds you a bit of a bad dungbomb, but he means a lot to Ron, so you can't go around attacking him every few minutes, alright?"

Hermoine was going to say something to a similar effect, but instead gave Harry a suspicious look before saying what she was going to anyway, "Right, don't go attacking Ron's rat."

Ginny, however, picked up on the oddity of the line, "What did you mean about Scabbers being like a bad dungbomb, Harry?"

Harry chuckled, "Crookshanks is a Kneazle, I heard your dad say so last night; I looked them up and apparently Kneazles rather dislike things they find untrustworthy, Crookshanks probably doesn't trust Scabbers for some reason."

Crookshanks didn't say or do anything, simply staring balefully at Ron's top pocket, tail flitting back and forth a bit.

Hermoine looked sideways at Harry, "When did you read that, Harry?"

"Last night." He noticed the looks he was getting, and felt the need to explain, "I haven't been sleeping much lately. I, er, spend a lot of time awake at night, sometimes reading different books if I'm curious."

Ginny gave him a look, "And when did that start?"

Harry shrugged, "'Round the start of summer, I guess."

Ginny seemed struck, shrinking back just slightly, "Oh."

From there Hermoine decided to satisfy her curiosity, "What else did you read about?"

Again, Harry shrugged, "I read up on Sirius Black, _Hogwarts, A History_, that _Monster Book of Monsters_, and the lady the Ministry sent to get me said she'd studied Muggle schoolwork along with magic, so I got someone to get me some books from a local Muggle school, though I didn't understand as much of it as I probably ought to have. There were a few others, but those were the ones I got since staying in Diagon Alley."

Ron stared, wide-eyed at Harry as though seeing him for the first time, "Wow, Harry, you're becoming a bookworm!"

Hermoine shushed, "You'll wake him!"

Professor Lupin snorted as though responding, but simply turned his face a bit and continued sleeping.

Quiet reigned after that, holding fast until the witch with the food cart came along at around one o'clock; the students debated waking the professor, but the cart witch waved them off, "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

Some time after that the quiet had apparently become too much for them; Hermoine took to reading a book, Ron found a piece of paper to fold into random shapes (usually nothing sensible of course, as he had no guide to go by), Ginny had curled up on her seat and was staring blankly out the window at the growing storm, whereas Harry had settled down for something of a catnap, looking very contented sprawled out across two seats.

This was the scene that Draco Malfoy and his two trollish cronies, known best by their family names of Crabbe and Goyle, walked in on, "Well look who it is," sneered the pale-faced boy in a well-practiced lazy drawl, "Potty and the Weasel."

Harry suddenly snorted awake, "Are we there?" He blinked tiredly about, waking quickly enough to notice Malfoy and decide that there was no threat, "Oh, 's just Malfoy." He sat up, rubbing his eyes, "What's up then, Malfoy? Lost your daddy?"

It was said in a truly matter-of-fact tone, but it was still enough to get Draco's heckles up, "No I think it's you who's lost his 'Daddy'."

Harry shrugged with a smile, "Nah, I know where my dad is, he's dead remember? You aren't losing your memory, are you?"

Ron, who's nerves had become primed for action when Draco had shown his slimy face, had taken to looking confused at Harry's behavior, as was Hermoine.

Draco seemed struck, though he recovered fairly quickly, "No, my memory's just fine, thanks. Wait, who's that?" Draco's attention had finally fallen on the sleeping adult.

Harry, meanwhile, took the opportunity to whisper loudly to the side, "Totally shot, it is."

Hermoine rolled her eyes, "That's _Professor_ R. J. Lupin."

The look in Draco's eyes told the story, he obviously wasn't keen on starting a fight under the nose of a professor, "C'mon." And with that he led his cronies off.

Ginny was practically giggling, "Harry that was fantastic!"

Ron nodded, apparently impressed, "I haven't seen Malfoy that mad since... since..."

Harry chuckled, "Since sometime last year?"

Ron grew a little pink, "Well, yeah."

The storm outside grew steadily louder and steadily darker until it became so dark that the lanterns all along the train flickered to life, providing a willowy light that gave Hermoine a headache, forcing her to stop reading.

Then, suddenly, the train started slowing to a stop.

"Are we there already?" Ginny tried to look out the window.

Ron tried to look out the window along with his sister, "I hope so, I can't wait to get to the feast."

Hermoine checked her watch, "But we can't be there yet."

Ron raised an eyebrow, "Then why are we stopping?"

None of them had any answers, but as the train slowed and its noises died down, the sound of the rain rang all the louder in their ears until suddenly with a loud clank the train came to a complete stop, noises farther down the train telling them that baggage had fallen from its places with the stop, even as the lanterns all went out, plunging them all into nearly complete darkness.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know." Harry decided to stay in his seat, not really keen on moving around in the pitch blackness.

Hermoine seemed to have started to fret, moving around a bit in her seat, "Do you suppose we've broken down?"

Looking hard, Harry could just make out the outline of Ron looking out the window; suddenly he wished that Ginny hadn't been there, if she hadn't he'd have been free to use his Animagus form to get a better look in the dark.

"Hey, I think there're people coming aboard."

Harry didn't get the chance to say anything in response as, right at that moment, there was a loud bang when their compartment's door was thrust open, admitting a stumbling body, "Harry? Ron? Are you in here?"

"Neville? What are you doing here? You'd best sit down." Hermoine apparently tried to guide the stumbling boy down, though it was probably in vain, as him sitting down involved plenty of spitting and, most likely, scratching as he'd tried to sit on Crookshanks. "Ah! a cat?"

"Yes he's mine. Augh I can't see a thing!" Hermoine apparently huffed in frustration, "I'm going to go ask the driver what's going on."

Harry vetoed that idea, however, "No, best if we stay together, we'd probably only get in the way anyway."

"Oh Harry, what else are we to do?"

Harry had a bad feeling, and he decided to finally express that with a decisive "Stay _here_!"

He needn't have bothered, as right at that moment another, new voice hoarsely commanded, "_Quiet!_"

Professor Lupin seemed to have woken up at last, and after hearing a bit of movement in his corner they were graced their first look of him awake, illuminated by a ball of fire that seemed to be sitting in his hand. "Stay here." No one pointed out that Harry'd just said that, instead watching him as he made his way to the door.

He didn't make it there before the door flung open, revealing a cloaked, hooded form that towered nearly to the ceiling.

Harry couldn't see its face, but it had one hand out, looking sickly as though it was something that'd died and rotted underwater, though it was visible for only a moment before the thing took a slow, withering breath, seemingly pulling the very heat from the air as an icy cold clenched Harry's chest, 'D-dark...'

Something awoke in his heart in that moment, a warm, burning defiance that forced him to stand, splay-legged with arms outstretched, ready to fight. His eyes focused on the thing, ready to lash out at the smallest provocation, though his thoughts were elsewhere, hearing voices.. screams, the sound of a man and a woman struggling against something.

Screaming, crying, then silence followed by a cruel, cold laugh lit by a bright green light...

It all ended with a silver fog, and the automatic tension that had held his body aloft bled out, leaving him to collapse bonelessly to the floor. Consciousness followed.

* * *

><p>Something lightly slapped his cheek, "Harry, you okay?"<p>

Harry blearily blinked at the odd lighting, "C-cold.."

Professor Lupin entered his sight range, holding out a brown hunk of something that smelled like chocolate, "Take this, eat the whole thing."

Harry took it, not knowing what good the chocolate would do, but glad for it anyway as he took a testing bite.

As a wave of warmth came over him, Harry smiled and quickly finished off the whole slab, which left him in what felt like a cozy bliss, doubled perhaps by his recently acquired sweet tooth. Oh, he'd had a sweet tooth before, but it had recently grown rather a lot.

The professor made a round of the cabin, handing out more chocolate as he went.

Warmed up a bit, Harry took a moment to take notice of his surroundings; the lights were on and now that the numbness had gone, he noticed that rumblings and mumblings from all around meant that the train was most likely moving again.

"What happened?"

Ron breathed a bit as Professor Lupin left the cabin, "You passed out just as the Professor drove it off."

Harry tilted his head curiously, "Why would I pass out _after_ it was gone?" His memory was all warbled and garbled, as though it'd been a picture gone through the wash.

Ron shrugged, holding the piece of chocolate the professor had given him, "Dunno, I'm surprised you could stand up at all with that thing. What was it, anyway?"

No one seemed to have an answer, so they instead sat in silence, Harry back in his seat, until the professor returned.

Professor Lupin grinned at them all, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know." And with that those who hadn't already, ate the chocolate they'd been given as Harry turned to their newest teacher.

"Professor, what was that thing?"

Suddenly his grin was gone, "Dementor, one of the Dementors of Azkaban."

Harry blinked, "I'd heard they were going to be guarding the school..."

Lupin sighed, sinking back into his seat, "Unfortunately so, but I'm afraid it's for the best."

A little less than ten minutes of silence later the train came to a stop and they disembarked.

The rain, now that they were unprotected by the strong, wind-tight walls of the train, was downright frighteningly cold, though just quiet enough to hear the normal noises of a station over it.

"Firs' years, this way!" Hagrid, the gigantic caretaker of Hogwarts, was ushering a group of shivering, fearful-looking students; they smaller in general than all the rest, being the youngest and newest of new students for the year, literally looking forward to their first day at Hogwarts and making Hagrid look all the larger in comparison.

They noticed Hagrid turning his scruffy, heavily-bearded face toward them, "All righ', you three?" Harry, Ron and Hermoine nodded, but said nothing as they made their way further along, not envying the first years one bit; they would get a unique view of Hogwarts, but in this weather just might catch their death of cold in the doing, which would then lead to a trip to a fussy Madam Pomfrey, the school's medi-witch.

Harry, Ron, and Hermoine climbed inside one of the carriages that seemed to have no horses, which predictably started off automatically, swaying a bit as though pulled by invisible mounts.

Although it smelled a bit as though he were sitting in a moving barn, Harry was glad for the walls of the carriage, especially when he noticed as they passed through the wrought iron gates, with the towering gargoyles at the peaks of great stone pillars, that there was a pair of tall Dementors radiating a palpable pit of coldness that tried to suck the cheerfulness right out of him standing beside each pillar. He frowned, leaning forward as though to get a better look; he didn't like them, and wasn't about to show weakness to them.

It wasn't long after that (or at least it seemed) before the giant towers and turrets of Hogwarts loomed over them, and their carriage slowly trundled into an alcove where they all disembarked. Upon exiting their carriage, Harry walked headlong into the sneering yet grinning facade of a pale, thin young man, who immediately started off with a lazy, cruel drawl, "Potter, is it really true? Has your head really grown so large as to think _you_ could fight a Dementor?"

Harry gave Draco a long, withering look, thinking for what felt like an eternity as every pair of eyes in vicinity turned on them, seeming to be waiting for something. Harry's mind quickly went into overdrive as he sought out a response, finally settling on saying, "Not fight, but I'd rather stand than fall away."

Draco sneered for just a moment, though his grin came quickly back, "Well then, big brave Potter, maybe you can protect us all then?"

"You need protecting then, Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes flashed, but just then Professor Lupin's voice wafted out to them, "Is there a problem?"

Draco gave Harry a look not unlike the ones that Professor Snape, the cold, hateful Potions teacher, always gave him before practically spitting out "Of course not, Professor." He then stormed away without so much as a look at anyone else, his bodyguards following faithfully behind.

Harry rubbed his arms, looking as though nothing had happened, "Come on, I want to dry off a bit." Everyone allowed the change of subject.

Some time later Harry and the others, minus Hermoine, who had been called off by Professor McGonagall, had just gotten settled into their seats when the large, heavy doors to the Great Hall opened to admit a throng of minuscule students, shivering and most of them slightly blue in the face.

Despite being the first sorting he'd been able to actually witness, Harry paid only a minimum of attention to the festivities, distracted continually by this sound, that movement, and that flash of lightning streaking across the enchanted ceiling. He hardly noticed that the Sorting Hat had literally changed its tune, though the back of his mind filed it away for the future.

When Professor Dumbledore stood up for his annual announcements, Harry turned as much of his attention to the front as he could, curious to what the respected head of school would have to say.

The big obvious bit, and the least happy news of the year so far (which was surprisingly really saying something), was that the entire school was surrounded, practically under lock down by a horde of Dementors, "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors." At this Percy was seen to be puffing out his chest, looking over the Hall with a haughty, superior air.

Dumbledore, after a serious moment, lightened a bit, announcing first the arrival and posting of Professor Lupin, who stood to light, polite applause, then moved on to introduce the new Care of Magical Creatures professor, who was none other than Professor Rubeus Hagrid, who was introduced to a much more cacophonous applause.

Messages of importance passed on, they had their feast then, Harry enjoying dessert the most; afterwards they headed off to the dorms, where Percy gave the password importantly, and everyone headed off for their respective rooms.

Harry took a moment to get the feel of home before Ron noticed him standing there, giving him a slightly odd look, to which Harry grinned, "Well, I'm ready."

Ron only rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 3<p>

* * *

><p>Well, I ended it here; I could have kept it going, but after this point I would have started running into actual classes, which would not have fit in this chapter. Rowling ended her chapter at this point, as well, so I think it only appropriate.<p>

Just don't expect that to become a trend, heh.

One of my reviewers pointed something out: Yes, Mew has some psychic powers. Rather strong ones, in fact; and Harry will develop those in time as well. However, Harry has never heard of Mew, as he's literally the first to exist in his world as far as his world knows; he's likely going to develop most of the talents that other Mews have shown, including both those mentioned and a few not thought much about. But having never heard of Mew as a species, or even of Pokemon in general, Harry doesn't know what's possible or what he's supposed to be able to do, and as he generally seems not to care until he needs to, he's not likely to figure them out until he stumbles across them. Don't worry, we'll eventually be seeing a full-grown Mew in all his glory, but for now Harry still thinks of himself as a Wizard-in-training first, and a whatever-it-is second.

On another note: Someone commented about Harry sensing Scabbers, and to that I have to give applause; yes, he did and does sense Scabbers, as you can see by the dungbomb comment. He sensed it himself and it will bother him for the rest of the year; but as he currently doesn't know _why_ Scabbers is untrustworthy, he's at best going to be giving the rat a hard time, mostly following Crookshanks' lead on the matter, as much as Ron isn't going to like it.

Thirdly this fic is, in all my plans, a strictly Potter-verse fic; Ash Ketchum won't be making any appearances, and for the purpose of this fanfic the Gryffindor Trio are the first Pokemon to ever exist. The wizards won't start throwing Pokeballs, the students won't be carrying Pokedexes, and Dumbledore won't be meeting Professor Oak, much as that meeting seems like it would be entertaining.

That said, I'd better wrap this up before the Author's Notes get too long. Cheers!

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	4. Terms of Endangerment

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermoine to help... this changes them... a lot.

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><p>Chapter 4 : Terms of Endangerment<p>

* * *

><p>After another nearly sleepless night, Harry had just about gone through most of his schoolbooks at least once, gotten back in touch with Moaning Myrtle ("<em>Myrtle<em> needs a visit, _Myrtle_ needs calming down!" "Myrtle needs her toilet cleaned." "Well, Filch hasn't been in here!"), and explored the area around his Divination classroom (being the most interesting, so far from all the other areas he'd already visited). He'd given some thought to the idea of sightseeing some of the spots where he'd gotten into trouble before, but in the end decided on a couple of hours of sleep before dawn.

Finally, dawn came, and Harry was surprised to find that Professor McGonagall had decided to question him on some rumors that seemed to have been going around.

"Professor, I promise-" Harry shook his head seriously, "I have no intention of going after, or even going _near_ any of the Dementors." He shivered a bit, "Those things..."

Professor McGonagall noted Harry's conflicted eyes, "Very well, then. Best get to breakfast, Potter."

When he finally arrived at breakfast he found Ron and Hermoine squabbling over something, though Draco's snickering quickly drew his attention on the Slytherins; noticing his gaze, most of them feigned innocence, though a few gave him mocking salutes and fake encouragements.

Harry gave a look at what Fred explained as being a third-year schedule, "Well, it looks like Divination is first."

"Where's that? The North Tower?" Ron looked up, a puzzled expression on his face.

Harry nodded, "Yeah." He took a few bites of a syrup-covered waffle before Hagrid, the large, grizzled gamekeeper and new Care of Magical Creatures teacher, ambled into the Hall carrying a polecat and looking a tad flabbergasted.

"All righ'?" He grinned, a bit of the lost look leaving his eyes, "Y'er in my firs' class. Hope it's all righ', been up since five gettin' ev'thin' ready." He shook his head, the lost look returning, "Me a teacher, hones'ly..."

Ron turned a wary eye on his friends, "What d'you suppose he's been getting ready?"

Hermoine shook her head, "I don't know, but we'd better go to Divination, it's all the way in the North Tower and we only have ten minutes."

Harry hastily grabbed an extra snack for the trip before following his friends.

The locales felt a bit different from a Human perspective, but Harry was still able to give Ron and Hermoine a quick tour of the areas around the North Tower ("Hullo, Sir Cadogan." "Should I know you, fine sir?"), until they found themselves milling about amongst a throng of other students.

Ron wondered aloud how they were to get into the classroom and, almost as though to answer his question, a ladder dropped out of the ceiling at Harry's feet, who shrugged and climbed his way up, followed by the rest. Ron secretly felt a little miffed; he'd been the one to ask, why had the ladder dropped at _Harry's_ feet and not his?

The atmosphere in the Divinations classroom was cozy, tidy, warm... and so heavily perfumed that for a moment Harry wondered if he'd caught a whiff of catnip, though he soon realized that his head was simply swimming slightly more than those of his classmates.

"Where is she?" Ron was looking around the room, face already showing signs of perfume-induced confusion mixing with the natural-born variant.

The Divinations teacher chose that moment to make her appearance, gliding silently from a back corner, "Welcome, it's so good to see you all in the physical world." She spoke in a misty, world-less tone that made her sound incredibly distracted.

Professor Trelawney was apparently a somewhat insect-like woman with thick, eye-enlarging glasses and robes of a glittering green, who spent the first many minutes of class time explaining the purpose and direction of her class, all-the-while handing out some random predictions that seemed part-and-parcel of her very manner of speech.

For the most part her predictions reminded Harry of the muggle book on fortune-telling that he'd read over the summer, as a sort of leisurely study on this very class; according to the muggles, the trick to fortune-telling was to make one's predictions vague and to make them often, and for the most part Professor Trelawney seemed fit to this pattern, though she seemed to have enough of some more specific predictions, and a few short-term statements that hit the mark as to make Harry wonder if perhaps she might be for real.

After a short speech, and before any of them even had a handle on what was going on, they had had some tea and were staring at each-others' spittle, trying to make sense of what was going on. The perfume didn't help their feelings of confusion, of course.

They were, apparently, reading tea leaves, and though Harry had little idea of what was expected, he did his best, Ron doing even more poorly than he. "Hey Harry, d'you suppose this is a sheep? What's that mean?"

Harry looked, but shrugged, "I dunno, but I think this one in the bottom of yours is a lion... guess that means you'll show lots of bravery. And I think this one means you'll see.. oh my" Harry blinked, a tad shocked, but shook his head and moved on, "And I think that one means you've got a secret you don't want exposed..." He grinned, giving Ron a mischievous eye, "Got a stash of chocolate frogs you're not going to share, Ron?"

Ron was about to answer when Professor Trelawney, attracted by Ron's complaint about a sheep, seemed to have descended instead upon Harry, "Go on, child, what were you going to say before you stopped?"

Harry blinked, "What? About Ron's chocolate frogs?"

Trelawney huffed, "No, you were about to say what he was going to see, but you stopped. What were you going to say?"

Ron, indeed everyone turned to stare at Harry, and Harry felt their stares, wrapping his hands together as Hermione gave odd noises of interest, "Well, if I see it right, it says he's going to... come very close to death."

Trelawney raised an eyebrow in interest, seeming to glow for a moment as she reached a hand forward, a smile on her face as morbid curiosity filled the classroom, "Let me see that, child."

Harry flushed a bit, "I said close to death, it's not like he's going to die! Right?"

Trelawney gave the cup a few looks over, "I suspect you're right, child..."

There was something of a sigh that took half the class, though the other half seemed to only tense, which drove Ron to change the subject, "Professor, what do you suppose this smudge here means? I think it looks like a sheep, do you suppose that means he'll sleep a lot?"

Trelawney took Harry's cup, took a look at the splotch that Ron was gesturing to, and instantly her eyes widened, "Oh! Oh.. well, that explains everything."

Suddenly the tenseness gave way to a tense curiosity, as the previous sigh of relief was taken back in as a held-back gasp; finally, one of the girls in the class, Parvati Patil, voiced the question, "What is it, Professor?"

She shook her head, eyes wide and seeming to gulp, "No, no, I can't say, it's too. No, best not to say."

"Go on, tell us!"

"Yes! What is it?"

Trelawney still seemed dubious, looking between the two cups, "My, my, no, no. But it can't be anything else, can it?"

"Professor, please!?"

Finally Trelawney gave up, looking at Ron, then Harry from the corners of her eyes, "This isn't a sheep. This is the Grim."

* * *

><p>Through the rest of the class Harry remained deliberately quiet, but once they were all safely in the hallways Harry couldn't hold it in any longer, "Ron, what's a Grim? Is it like a Grim Reaper?"<p>

Ron was about to respond, but was struck short, "Grim Reaper? Is that like a... wait."

Hermoine huffed testily, "Yes, Harry, the Grim _is_ like the Grim Reaper, except it's a dog."

Ron nodded, "It's a black dog, wizards fear it almost as much as.. well, you-know-who."

Harry tilted his head curiously, "Right. Well, I don't see any reason to get worked up over it; I mean, you thought it was a sheep, right? And I _have_ been having trouble sleeping..."

Ron flushed a bit, "Yes, but you remember what you said about me, right? That I would come close to death?"

Harry sighed in exasperation, "Yes, _Close_ to death!"

Ron frowned, "That's just it, Harry. I'm not going to die, I'm going to see _you_ die!"

Harry didn't see it, "I don't see it." He shook his head.

An expression close to a scowl blossomed on Ron's face, "How can you be so.. so... Harry you're going to die!"

Professor McGonagall, who had been passing them in the hallway at just that moment, stopped Ron with a hand, "Did you just come from Divinations?" Ron nodded, "And Professor Trelawney said Harry was going to die?" Again, Ron nodded, and McGonagall waved the affair off, "Then you should know that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way to greet a new class."

"But-but, Harry predicted that _I_ would come _close_ to death, and if Harry dies I certainly would! It fits!"

McGonagall gave Harry a raised eyebrow as Harry massaged his temple, muttering about Ron missing the point, "I wouldn't have you giving too much emphasis on Divinations; it's the most imprecise of all magics, nearly impossible to truly get right, and only a very few Magical Creatures can get it right with any reliability, even fewer humans are true Seers. Personally I have very little patience with it." Her nostrils flared a bit, as though twitching with unseen stress.

Harry murmured quietly, then after a look from Ron and Professor McGonagall he rolled his eyes and said, more loudly, "The secret is to make lots of vague predictions; vague enough to make almost anything fit, and enough of them so people pay attention to your hits and never hear your misses." From the looks he was receiving, Ron had never heard such advice and McGonagall seemed to be giving him an appraising look, "I read it in a Muggle book, trying to expose fraud in fortune telling..." He blushed a bit at the look in his teacher's eyes, as though he'd done a great thing, "I just wanted to see what the Muggles thought of it; besides, I was allowed to go to the Muggle library, but wasn't allowed to read my magic books at the Dursleys, so..."

Ron rolled his eyes, exasperated, "But Muggles don't believe in _any_ magic!"

Harry was about to respond before Professor McGonagall interrupted, "As interesting as all this is, you two had best get to class. And Harry-" Harry turned to the Professor, one foot nearly through the Transfigurations classroom door, "As you look in good health to me, you'll have to excuse me if I don't let you off of homework today. I assure you that if you die you need not hand it in."

From that point, although his classmates kept giving him furtive glances, Harry felt remarkably calm, reacting suitably interested when Professor McGonagall gave a demonstration of an Animagus transformation. McGonagall, however, seemed displeased with the inattentiveness of the rest of the class, culminating in an exasperated statement, "Regarding Mr. Potter's death omen which I'm sure so many of you are so concerned with, you should all know that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year, every year since she's come to this school, and not one of them have died yet. It's simply how she greets a new class. Now I'd much prefer if my students could keep their minds in the _present_ while in my class, rather than on the future!"

Ron seemed to have finally gotten the message, and though Harry seemed very nonchalant about it all some of the other students apparently still weren't too sure, such as Lavender Brown, who raised her hand, "But Professor, even Harry had a prediction, before Professor Trelawney, that-"

"That Ron would come close to death?" McGonagall gave the girl a reproving look, "First, if I'm correct this was Harry's first ever attempt at prediction, the reliability is worse than abysmal for a beginner's predictions. And second, if you'll notice, Harry himself doesn't seem to be too concerned." Harry shrank a bit, "I'll say only once that I have no patience for predictions of the future, let alone my esteemed colleague's... _greetings_."

Lavender seemed dubious, "But why would she..?"

Harry interrupted, "Probably to get us used to it." Once again, attention was being focused on him, and again he shrank from it, "Well, after a Death omen, 'Trials and Tribulations' don't seem so bad, right?"

The other students seemed to, on the whole, agree, though a few of them seemed to be unhappy about what they perceived as a cruel mis-truth.

"Besides, I live with muggles, and they rather like dogs, and a lot of _them_ are black. Who's to say it wasn't just a black dog?" That seemed to settle it, and Professor McGonagall finally regained control of her class which ended, as promised, with homework.

* * *

><p>The next day greeted Harry and his friends with a relatively warm, crisp morning on the Hogwarts grounds as they all headed off for their first Care of Magical Creatures class, which they were looking forward to with great vigor, as it was to be taught by their good friend Rubeus Hagrid.<p>

Unfortunately, as Harry quickly realized, it seemed that the Gryffindors were having this class with the Slytherins. Counter to the Gryffindor red, there was a band of Slytherin green in the area, talking quietly and giving him looks as he approached, a few of them giving him mocking salutes and bows, which Harry chuckled lightly at.

As they came upon Hagrid's hut they found Hagrid himself standing at the landing, his overlarge boarhound, Fang standing beside him, apparently pleased to have so much company; as they came closer Hagrid seemed to grow just a bit more impatient, "Come on, hurry up now!" He smiled as they came in, "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Ev'rbody here? Right! Let's go, follow me!"

Harry and the others followed as Hagrid led them all around near the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest, until they came across something of a wide expanse with a fence around it, where he bade them all stand by the fence, then open their books. Draco gave Hagrid a hard time of it, but unnoticed to him Harry and Ron were showing the procedure of it to the rest of the class, who seemed baffled that Draco continued to miss the commotion going on right behind him until Hagrid expressed his gratitude for Harry and Ron's help.

Hagrid then went on to fetch 'the Magical Creatures' and, mood suitably in place, Draco managed to make a pain of himself during Hagrid's short absence, "Oooh! There's a Dementor behind you, Potter! Better get your wand out!"

Finally Hagrid came about with a small herd of... well, creatures. With the bodies of horses (albeit a tad more heavily built than Harry was used to seeing), and the fore-parts of great Eagles, with beaks alone larger than a human head, they struck rather imposing figures even at a distance.

As they came closer Harry could hear a few of them bickering lightly as Hagrid led them around, though they acquiesced to respecting Hagrid's wishes and giving the puny things a chance. At least one of them, a pinkish-reddish one was giving the group of small humans a sharp look, focusing most tightly on the Slytherins in the bunch, perhaps instinctively knowing those were the least respectful.

Harry honestly couldn't explain it, even to himself, but at the sight of creatures that normally would strike terror into any but the most hardened of warrior, Harry somehow started to grow excited, and started to wonder on what sorts of spells might be useful against such creatures, how he might turn back their slashing claws and crushing maws.

"These'r Hippogriffs!" He smiled jovially at them, "Beau'ful, aren' they?"

Harry gave the creatures an interested look, and to a certain extent Harry had to agree, though a Muggle zoologist would probably rip his hair out trying to figure them out; their most distinctive feature, being the mish-mash nature between horse and bird, made them out to be definitively magical, and Harry rather wondered what sort of magic they might contain.

"Now if any o' yeh' wanna come closer..." Harry moved in with interest, Ron and Hermoine following cautiously, "Now the firs' thing yeh' gotta remember about Hippogriffs is, they're proud; easily insulted, they are. Don't ever insult a Hippogriff, 'cause it'll be the las' thing yeh' do."

Harry had the distinct feeling that Malfoy and his lackey's were plotting to do exactly what Hagrid had told them not to, but for the most part he didn't have the mind to pay much attention to his classmates, being far too involved in what was in front of him.

"Now what yeh' do is yeh' bow, real respectful-like and wait; an' if he bows back yeh can go up an' touch him. But if he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause them talons hurt." He nodded, "Right – who wants ter go first?"

Unknown to Harry most of the class backed away, even Ron and Hermoine seemed to be put off by the creatures, though somehow the very qualities that turned them away seemed to be giving Harry further courage. Hagrid was initially put-off by the fact that most of the class was backing away, but when Harry stepped forward he smiled, "Good man, Harry! Let's see how yeh' get along with Buckbeak." One of the girls from his Divinations class gasped a warning about his tea leaves, but he paid it no mind, having long ago decided it wasn't important.

Soon he and Buckbeak were standing across from one another, and then they'd made eye contact, "Easy there, Harry," Hagrid whispered quietly, as though afraid his booming voice might frighten someone in a delicate situation, "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not t'blink; Hippogriffs don't trust yeh if yeh blink too much."

Harry took the advice, but it didn't bother him too much, being told not to blink; he felt almost as though he were staring the creature down, challenging it to back down even as he showed that _he_ would not. "Tha's it, tha's it Harry. Now, bow..."

Though he got the distinct impression he was placing his head into the Lion's maw, Harry bowed deeply, placing as much reverence into the action as he could manage with so little practice, and then, still bowed, he looked up to gauge Buckbeak's reaction.

He hadn't known that Buckbeak had mirrored him so quickly that Hagrid was struck speechless, but Hagrid quickly recovered when he shot him a curious look, "Ah, right! Yeh can go up an touch him, go ahead 'n pat his beak."

The area was rather quiet as Harry approached Buckbeak and gave him a few good pats on the beak, even the other Hippogriffs were remarkably still, as though they too were judging him.

Soon Hagrid had grown almost giddy with anticipation, "Right then, Harry! I think he'll even let yeh' ride him!"

Hagrid's exclamation came with a bit of whispering from the students, but the rumblings from the Hippogriffs was perhaps more surprising, _"Perhaps they can be trusted?"_

_ "Respectful humans, incredible."_

_ "Hagrid is a very strong leader, he makes it possible."_

Harry grinned, but lost it with a sardonic shake of the head, muttering quietly enough that his classmates didn't hear, yet loudly enough for the Hippogriffs, "I wouldn't trust the Slytherins; I think many of them would give their own foot to have Hagrid kicked out. Malfoy, the pale one, is planning something already."

Buckbeak's eyes widened considerably, though Hagrid merely wondered if something was wrong, "Well go on, get up right behind the wing there; and careful not to pull any feathers out, he won' like that."

Harry wasn't so sure, but to his immense surprise Hagrid had taken the matter into his own hand, specifically by lifting Harry onto Buckbeak's back, where he grabbed on with his arms wrapped around the Hippogriff's neck and shoulders.

The ride from that point on was interesting, but not really all that much fun; it was definitely a jerkier ride than his broom, so it was different, but Harry quickly found himself to be bored by the slow speeds.

Soon, emboldened by Harry's success, the rest of the class started trying out with the Hippogriffs; the Slytherins had a tougher time of it, but even many of them got rides. Malfoy, of course, displayed his immense brilliance by shouting at Buckbeak, who refused to bow for him; it was only the distance between the two of them that allowed Malfoy to get away in time for Hagrid to interrupt Buckbeak's tantrum. "Best get t'the fence, Mr. Malfoy, don't think it safe fer yeh anymore o'er here." Malfoy stomped off, fuming as Hagrid cooed relaxing sounds into Buckbeak's ear, drowning Malfoy's insults out with a string of compliments.

* * *

><p>Some time after class had let out Harry, Ron, and Hermoine were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, Hermoine only absent once for as long as it took to pick up a book from the library (about ten minutes, as it turned out, though she was elusive as to which book she'd picked out), when Harry had a suggestion, "Y'know, we should all practice. Suppose we've got time?"<p>

Ron and Hermoine gave him puzzled looks before understanding dawned in the girl's eyes, "Oh! Well, actually, I'm not sure I _have_ got enough time, I've a class right off tomorrow morning, but you and Ron should!"

Ron nodded, still confused, "We ain't got any classes 'til DADA tomorrow afternoon, but what the devil are you two talkin' about?"

Harry chuckled, "You know Ron, about all that hair of yours?"

Ron fingered his red mane, "What about my hair?"

A blink, "I don't know, but wouldn't you like to sink your teeth into it?"

Now Ron was vaguely alarmed, "What? What are you talkin' about?"

"I mean, we should figure out about that courage omen you got in class."

Ron frowned, "Harry, could you start makin' sense? I'd really appreciate it."

Harry chuckled sardonically, shaking his head slowly while giving Ron a smile, "Ron, you can't really be that dense, can you?"

Hermoine giggled as Ron puffed, "Hey, I'm not dense! You just aren't making any sense!"

Harry laughed quietly as Hermione's giggles died down, followed by he pulling out his books as he felt the looks of some of the other Gryffindors losing some of their interest, "Never mind Ron, we'll talk about that later. Guess for now we should just do our homework; what's it for Transfigurations again?"

Ron goffed, "Harry, what would you wanna do homework for!?"

Harry laughed, "Would you rather keep talking about Divinations? Honestly Ron, if you've got a headache now how'll you do when we start stargazing?"

Ron paled, "Right, where's my books again?"

Hermione giggled as Harry pulled Ron's book from his bag, "Yeah, let's stick to the present for now."

Hermoine took that as her cue to stand, "Well, I'm going to go to bed; long day today and another one tomorrow. Good luck you two!"

Ron and Harry said their goodbyes, Ron rolling his eyes before they really got into their homework; eventually (for Ron largely with Harry's help) they got their work finished and started off with a few games of wizarding chess. Harry, it seemed, had gotten better over the summer, but his movements were still erratic and, despite a few short-term gains, he didn't improve much and still ended up losing nine of the ten games they played, though his ever-present calm smile never wavered.

Indeed that smile was starting to get to Ron, who eventually called his friend on it, "Harry, mate, what're you smilin' for?"

Harry's smile fell just long enough to give Ron a puzzled look, then he smiled again, "Sorry, just thinking about something else."

Ron raised an eyebrow, "'Bout what?"

Harry shrugged, "Just wondering if there's a place where we can practice without catching too much attention."

"Practice what? We aren't making a ruckus, we can practice here if you want?"

Harry chuckled, "Ron, if you haven't got it by now, you're going to have to wait."

Ron grumbled a bit, but acquiesced, "Well anyway, what next?"

With a shrug Harry gathered up his fallen chess army, "Dunno, you wanna try some tea leaf readings?"

"_Merlin_ no! Last time we did that we got yelled at by two teachers and had to deal with Grims and Lions and... ohh..."

Harry's eyes twinkled, "Oh?"

Ron flushed a bit as he gave Harry a few embarrassed looks, "Is that what you were talkin' about? The you-know-what?"

Harry's amused look intensified with a raised eyebrow, "No, I don't know what, you're going to have to be more specific."

Ron looked around, noting that there were still a few people in the room, "Well, y'know, the cats?"

Harry's grin intensified impossibly, "Plenty of cats 'round here, Ron, you're gonna have to be more specific."

In his flustered state Ron was starting to regret even bringing the topic up, "Y'know... that pink one?" Suddenly, as though to cut off more teasing, Ron gave his friend a serious look, "And seriously, mate, that color just doesn't seem right, y'know?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, "Didn't pick it, you know that Ron."

Ron rolled his eyes but didn't contest it, at least the game of 'Embarrass Ron' had apparently finished. "Come on, let's have a couple more go's."

Harry shrugged his assent, and five minutes later he wondered aloud, "When d'you suppose the first Quidditch practice will be?"

Ron shrugged, "Dunno, I just wish I could try out; they haven't got any positions open though."

Harry gave his friend a look, "But can't you practice anyway? Just because you can't play the games doesn't mean you can't practice, right?"

Ron grunted, "Maybe, but the teachers are probably going to lock the school down because of Black."

Harry was about to say something, but finally sighed his assent, "Yeah, you're probably right. Still, could it hurt to ask?"

Again Ron grunted, moving a pawn into an unfortunate position, placing one of his knights into a favorable one, "Dunno, what would I practice anyway?"

Harry chuckled, moving a random piece into a random place, still not fully grasping how he was expected to win at this game, "Maybe you could practice them all? I'd help you, y'know."

Ron shook his head, considering his next move without hardly even trying, "I dunno; there's no way I could do Seeker, maybe Keeper, but Wood's got that one covered brilliantly already..."

"So? He's not gonna be here forever, and where would we be if he were injured?"

Ron snorted, "Wood's the sort who'd play with two broken arms and an eyepatch. Besides, you always end the game fast enough no one has the _chance_ to be injured. Have I mentioned how brilliant you are at Seeker, by the way?"

Harry snickered, "Probably, you seem to think _all_ the Gryffindor players are brilliant."

Ron gave an indignant sound, "That's because you _are_! I'm telling you, Harry, if you can keep from losing all your bones again, there's no way Gryffindor can keep from snagging the cup this year!"

A laugh interrupted them, "I agree, but add that you'd best get plenty of rest, Harry, else I'll have to kick you into shape! Can't have a sluggish Seeker!"

Ron twitched away as Oliver Wood suddenly loomed from over his shoulder, giving Harry a look that spoke volumes, to which Harry happily agreed and wished the older boy a good night.

Finally Ron and Harry were alone and Harry beckoned Ron up to their dorm, where Ron was instructed to take Harry's invisibility cloak, which he did with a bit of puzzlement. Though that puzzlement was dashed when Harry gave him an instruction to head for the North Tower, then transformed, then transformed again into an exact replica of Hedwig.

Harry winged silently out the open window before Ron made his way through the portrait and went off for the North Tower, wondering what Harry had in mind.

Some time and a few close-calls later he was accosted by a small ginger kitten, which mewed at him plaintively; which Ron figured was Harry's new way of asking for him to follow.

Some time later all that Ron knew was that he was so turned around that he no longer knew where he was, until Harry finally led him into an apparently under-used room and returned to his pink-thing form. "Harry, where in heck are we?"

Harry responded with a grinning shrug, then started mewing insistently, which Ron took as encouragement for him to try his own transformation.

Some time later Ron was following the ginger kitten around, invisibility cloak in place; he'd gotten enough of his transformation done to know that his transformed form was large, very large, with forelegs nearly the size of trees yet no tail to speak of, though that could have simply been his inability to cause one to appear; perhaps more annoying was the odd metal thing that had suddenly attached itself to his forehead, just when his gargantuan arms where in a state that wouldn't allow for him to properly inspect the unexpected addition.

"Well Ron, looks like you're magical as well; wonder what kind?"

Ron grunted as he got into his bed, "Fire, definitely."

"Oh? Well whatever it is, it's sure big!"

Ron rolled his eyes tiredly, "Yeah, guess I can't sneak around like you, eh?"

Harry chuckled nervously, "Maybe not, but I wouldn't want to sneak up on you, either! You'd snap me in half!"

Ron snorted, quieting when one of their dorm-mates rustled in his sleep, "Whatever. I'm gonna go t' sleep now," he yawned widely, "'m tired."

"'Night."

Ron didn't notice the soft _Lumos_ that cast a dim glow for Harry to read by, as he'd stuck to his word and gone to sleep.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I forgot about Potions."<p>

The next day saw Ron nearly sleeping through Potions, though Harry got him up with plenty of time beforehand, and after a particularly nasty time of Slytherin-Stupidity that left Harry feeling a bit as though he'd just slogged a mile through molasses laden with land-mines, came their first Defense Against Dark Arts class with their new teacher.

And what a class; after a short practical on ridding door jam's of gum (_Waddiwasi!_), they started on practicals against the first of what promised to be many different dark creatures they'd get to see over the year. Boggarts, though perhaps a bit ill-conceived, were _incredibly_ interesting, perhaps especially due to Harry's own affinity for Transformation. Indeed, he found himself evaluating the myriad transformations that the poor creature had started going into, wincing terribly when the poor thing had started getting confused. The image of Snape with spider-mandibles, a few too many fingers, poisonous-looking leaves coming out of his back, snakes for legs, and a great glowing silver spot in place of a left eye was... odd, and distinctly unpleasant-looking.

After the class had finally destroyed the thing Harry was left with the impression that he hadn't been allowed to be targeted by the Boggart, and he wondered for a moment exactly why. He honestly wasn't sure what his greatest fear was; Lord Voldemort perhaps? But the very fact that he wasn't too sure about it didn't give him much confidence in that vein. He was fairly sure it would have been a Dementor, and had riled himself up to _Riddickulus_ it to no longer have its robe, which he imagined to reveal it to be a somewhat cartooned-looking skeleton in an ill-fitting bikini.

Why a bikini? Because it amused him, and wasn't that the entire point?

At any rate, the weeks started going on in this vain from that point on; Ron seemed to have hit a snag in his transformation; for some reason, he seemed unable to do the same parts twice, and though he could get all the way up to three-quarters finished, he just couldn't seem to do that last bit, leaving the lot of them rather frustrated. Fortunately, in the privacy of the Chamber of Secrets they had plenty of time to worry over it (though the rotting Basilisk corpse was a tad unnerving).

Their classes seemed to have quickly settled into their varied routines; Potions was always worst and left Harry feeling far more drained than he'd ever felt, even after meeting the Dementors, while the DADA classes were consistently the most interesting. And though Divinations had gotten so boring as to send Harry to fits of napping (disguised as meditating, of course), the resumption of Quidditch practice gave Harry something do be truly happy about.

Oliver had started the year with a nearly tear-laden speech about it being his last chance for the trophy, but when he saw Harry lancing off, catching Snitches almost as though without thinking about it, he seemed to start to carry a glow about him that Harry had never seen before.

Unfortunately several incidents involving Crookshanks chasing after Scabbers had Ron and Hermione on tense terms with one-another; they still spoke, but Hermoine was more and more often absent from Ron's practice sessions, and Ron spoke about it less and less.

On October the Sixteenth Harry and Ron found one of their classmates, Lavender Brown crying in the halls; apparently her rabbit had been killed by a fox, "Remember?" she implored tearfully, "'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on October the Sixteenth!' Remember! She was right! She was right!"

Hermoine was about to say something, but she was interrupted by Harry, "You were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Well maybe not a _fox_, but I was certainly dreading him _dying_ wasn't I?" She sobbed a bit more.

"Well... what, I mean if it hadn't happened, what do you think you might have been dreading?"

"What!? I don't know!"

Hermoine jumped in, "Well, was Binky an _old_ rabbit?"

"What? No! He was only a baby!"

Hermoine explained, then, that it hadn't even happened 'today', but that Lavender had only gotten the news today, but though Ron was about to say something Harry interrupted, "I think you weren't dreading Binky dying," he was about to be interrupted, but pushed on, "But! I think you may have been more dreading _finding out_ what'd happened. You were dreading the news, not the thing, and news can really be just about anything, so long as it hurts that'd be dread, right?"

Most of the others looked at him oddly, but Lavender sniffed a weak "maybe.."

After Transfigurations class had let out that same day, Ron convinced Harry to ask Professor McGonagall for permission to visit Hogsmeade, explaining that he'd never gotten his form back from his Uncle Vernon. The end result was that he'd ended up wandering the halls, not really expecting to find anything interesting, and gotten a good conversation with Professor Lupin, who was apparently impressed that Harry thought his greatest fear was most likely the Dementors, though he seemed a tad put off when Harry mentioned that he hoped that his greatest fear wasn't something silly, like giant mouse-traps or something off-kilter of the like.

"Well Harry, if you wouldn't think of it, neither would the Boggart."

Harry had chuckled, "Honestly Professor, I'm not sure _what_ I'm thinking anymore."

Afterward they all ate far too much at the Halloween feast and had a bit of jovial merry-making among streamers of fire and clouds of bats, flitting between the floating pumpkins. At one point Harry was tempted to join the bats, but of course that wouldn't be the best of ideas so he held off.

When they returned that night to the Gryffindor tower they found that the Fat Lady portrait had been slashed terribly, and to everyone's great shock Peeves, the school's poltergeist, announced that it'd been Sirius Black who'd done it.

All the students from all the houses had immediately been hurried to the Great Hall, where the Prefects, Head Boy and Girl were left to watch over the lot of them as they slept on the floor in surprisingly comfortable sleeping bags.

Except Harry couldn't sleep. This wasn't unusual for him, though that Ron and Hermoine also kept their eyes open spoke of what they were feeling at the moment. They kept quiet, so as not to have Percy, Ron's huffy older brother come down on them like some kind of bossy vulture, but there was no doubt what they were thinking about.

Except, of course, for Harry, who was simply longing to go exploring about some more; forget Sirius Black, he wanted- 'Wait, how can I forget him? He wants to kill me! Shouldn't I be more concerned?'

Harry thought on it for a moment, but all he'd managed to come up with was to wonder, again, what his greatest fear was. Was he afraid of Dementors as Professor Lupin seemed to think? Or might he fear catnip just that little bit more?

He blushed in the dark and fidgeted a bit, 'Yes, definitely either Dementors or Catnip.' He shivered, 'Catnip makes me feel really warm and good for a while, but I can't imagine acting like that around people, and Dementors make me feel cold and angry but at least I apparently stand up to them... or maybe that was a fluke.'

He stared at the stars that decorated the Great Hall's ceiling, and suddenly had a great longing to be outside. Outside amongst the trees, in a warm, slightly damp place, far from people...

"Any sign of him, Professor?" Percy's hushed voice broke him from his reverie, followed by Professor Dumbledore.

"No, all well here?"

"Under control here."

"Good. No point in moving them now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor tower, we'll be able to move everyone back tomorrow."

Further murmuring continued, but Harry tuned it all out. If he was going to be stuck here in this cold, dreary darkness, he was going to go to sleep.

* * *

><p>To Harry's entertainment, it turned out that Sir Cadogan was the portrait that'd been found to cover the Gryffindor tower entrance, the foolish knight being the only one brave enough to take the post after what'd happened to the Fat Lady. His antics, especially the constant changing of passwords had been a point of contention, and the way he constantly waged war against the students for the offense of walking by started getting old rather quickly; Harry, however, had a small number of protracted conversations with the crazy-clad one and consistently managed to find him entertaining.<p>

The weather, however, was the worst thing to happen after Halloween; the continually cold, windy, dreary, and awfully dreadful weather was coupled only by the fact that he now had to have Teacher escorts everywhere he went short of the toilet stalls (the rooms themselves were relatively fair-game). Even Quidditch practice had teachers, usually Madam Hooch present in case Sirius Black returned.

And those practices, though dreary, were pale afternoons compared to the Gryffindor team's first game of the year, "Slytherin is off its rocker, asking me to cancel! Not a chance! If he's worried about the weather that just means he's not prepared like we are! No excuses, no backing out! We're ready for anything, right team!" There was a high call of assent, and he was pleased, "Good! Let's go, and give those snakes the loss that's coming to them!"

Of course it was still a few days before the match, and the unfortunate substitution of Professor Snape for Professor Lupin in Defense Against Dark Arts class was a nasty shock indeed, though he did his best and studied Werewolves anyway. It was a nice little solace to find out that an Animagus wouldn't be affected by Werewolf bites so long as they were in animal form, and were strongly resistant to it even in human form. Of course, Harry doubted he'd ever run across a Werewolf that would want to bite him, but it was nice to be prepared, which he supposed was the point of the DADA classes. The others didn't take the change in cirriculum quite so well, but just being around Snape was bad enough, why make it worse by grumbling about the subject matter?

'This cold will be the death of me, I'm telling... er, me.' Harry chuckled beneath his breath, shaking slightly as he walked through the halls, not really going anywhere, 'Stupid weather, bring back the sun already!'

Unfortunately the sun didn't come back, and if anything the storm had only intensified for the day of the match; Draco didn't look too happy to be taking to the skies in such weather, but was there all the same.

The game, like Oliver's speech beforehand, was an utter failure from the start; the entire school had turned up to watch, but as Harry couldn't even see what was happening he couldn't imagine that the rest of the student body could either. Why, he couldn't even see Malfoy, who within the first five minutes could well have had the Snitch already and been too far in the rain to be seen.

The rain was splattering his glasses until he couldn't see through them properly, his robes were soaked through, the wind kept blowing him off-course, and it seemed as though his shivering was only getting worse. He kept getting mixed up about the other players, the rain washing out the colors so severely that he couldn't tell one player from another, and the rain and thunder were so loud that he could hardly hear shouts going off right beside him; even his 'other' senses were confused, there being so much intensity in all directions that it only added to his overall sense of confusion and displeasure.

There was a flash of lightning and with it came the sound of Madam Hooch blowing her whistle, just barely audible over the storm. Oliver gathered his team together and loudly explained, "_I called a time-out!_" He ushered everyone under an umbrella, "Come on, under here!"

"What's the score?"

Wood shook his head, "We're up seventy points; I was right about them being unprepared, but we need to get the Snitch or else we'll be out here all night!"

Harry glumly rubbed his glasses on his robe, which didn't do a whole lot as his robes had more water than his glasses; he sighed in frustration, "Well I can't see a thing with these on, they just keep getting too wet to use." He frowned, but didn't have time to think of it before Hermoine stuck out her hand.

"Let me see them." She then did a charm (_Impervius!_) and handed them back, "Now they'll repel water!" She then disappeared back into the crowd with a smile, hardly looking back.

The declaration had fed new enthusiasm into the team and even Harry managed to wrap himself in a cocoon of determination, flying from end to end looking for the little golden sparkle of the Snitch.

He was momentarily distracted by a peal of thunder that threatened to rattle his broom from his hands, and the growing danger fed him even more to finding the Snitch quickly. He saw trees, rain, students, even a soaked-to-the-bone black dog, but no Snitch.

Then he heard Oliver yelling at him, "Harry! Behind you!"

Harry quickly turned around, for the first time thankful for all the noise as he saw the Snitch with no Malfoy in sight; immediately he shot off for it, his Nimbus Two Thousand complaining for perhaps the first time ever, "Come on, I know it's cold... just a bit longer." That seemed to do the trick and suddenly his beloved broom was in top flying shape again, but the distraction had nearly lost him the Snitch. He quickly found it again near one of the stands, Malfoy still nowhere to be seen. He dodged a Bludger and dove after it, feeling the speed between his hands as his instincts took over, chasing after the tiny glint that was his entire world.

His hand closed around it, he felt it fighting helplessly from within his grasp and was suddenly stunned by how easy it'd been; it had been such a fun game, this chase... and now he was so cold... so empty, no longer bearing a purpose...

He landed absently, still staring stupidly at the Snitch, tempted to just sit down and freeze to death... 'stupid cold... can't hardly move...'

Suddenly a fire erupted inside him, 'Not a chance! I won't go like that!' An intense anger, a powerful defiance suddenly took him and he turned, eyes widening furiously when he saw them: Dementors, a great lot of them were gliding across the field, actually sending most of the students scurrying away even as some of the teachers cautiously approached, readying their wands.

His anger erupted sevenfold and before he realized it he was flying off again, being pulled along rather than carried by the broom, which he was only grasping with one tightly-clenched fist, the rest of him flailing along behind.

The closer he got, the more that his anger both intensified and ebbed away, leaving only stony determination and the sound of a woman crying, pleading as cruel laughter erupted from a pain in his hand.

* * *

><p>Harry awoke again and knew only that he was cold; incredibly cold, such that he was shivering uncontrollably before he'd even known it. "C-cold..."<p>

Suddenly a piece of something not immediately identifiable had been placed in his mouth, "Chew it, then have the rest of this." He chewed and swallowed the chocolate and a great lump of the cold abated as a much larger chunk of the stuff was thrust into his hands.

Once his mind was working properly again he took stock of his situation; the cold in his soul had mostly gone, but the cold in his body was still largely present, though Madam Pomfrey was working on warming him up with all the blankets she had him under. He was currently in the medical wing, with Ron, Hermoine, Fred, George, Madam Pomfrey, and even Professor McGonagall standing over him, "What happened?"

Professor McGonagall gave him a sharp look, "I thought you weren't intending to fight them, Potter?"

Harry blinked stupidly, "What?"

Hermoine took it upon herself to explain more fully, "A bunch of Dementors came on the field just as you caught the snitch-"

"Great catch, by the way." Ron gave Harry a glowing smile.

"-and I don't think you noticed them at first, neither did I, but once you did you launched directly after them. I think you ran into them, but you came rolling out the other side, your broom hit one I think."

"What the hell-" ('Ron!' 'Mr. Weasley!') "-were you doing? You weren't even _on_ your broom!"

Harry shook his head, trying to recall, "I don't... I don't even remember moving..." He frowned, trying to get his cold-clogged mind to work properly, "I think, I hated them, but I don't remember moving after them, I'm pretty sure I blacked out." He rubbed his right hand, the one that'd been holding his broom, "I hit it with my broom? Explains why my hand hurts."

Professor McGonagall's nose flared, "And your broom got a good cracking up, too. How you could do something so reckless! Why, we'll have to have it checked out just to be sure the enchantments are still in place!"

Harry cowed back, but almost as quickly returned with a question, "Professor, can brooms be affected by cold?"

Professor McGonagall seemed taken off-side by this, "I- I'm not sure. Why?"

"Because my broom shivered a bit just before I caught the Snitch, almost made me lose it in the rain. I thought it might have been too cold to work right, and it came back when I encouraged it. 'Just a little longer' and it worked okay..." Harry leaned back to silently consider how that would have worked to begin with, brooms couldn't hear!

McGonagall, Hermoine, Pomfrey, and even Madam Hooch (who'd just come into hearing range, to check on the game's MVP) all stopped silent at this; McGonagall gave Hooch a meaningful look, who then spoke evenly, "We'll have it checked out. In the meantime you'll probably need to take it easy on that broom. If the enchantments have started wearing out that sort of unpredictability would the the first signs. Hard-used brooms don't last forever."

After a few more largely meaningless words Harry was left with only Ron, Hermoine and Madam Pomfrey, "Can I go now?"

Pomfrey puffed herself up indignantly, "After practically falling on a bunch of Dementors! I think not! You'll be staying here the night!"

Harry sat quietly for a moment, then sighed, "Fine, I suppose."

"Good! And you'd best get plenty of rest, as well! And drink this, it'll fix your hand; nearly ripped it from its place with that stunt of yours!"

Ron grimaced, "See ya later, mate."

Hermoine gave him a look, "You want your books?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I'm fine, thanks."

And with that, there were only two. Madam Pomfrey left and Harry was alone.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 4<p>

* * *

><p>I'm going to set a few things straight here, about Ron and Hermione's transformations. First is Hermione; much like Harry, she doesn't realize just what she's sitting on with her transformation, and thus has no reason to do anything with it, but I assure you that it <em>will<em> eventually get somewhere. Eevee is one of my favorite Pokemon, and she's got a special place in this story. Ron's transformation, however... well, let's just say I'm going to be rather mean to him and leave it at that. Everyone who knows Pokemon well enough will be able to figure out what it is, but I won't come out and say it just now; however, unlike Harry and Hermione, once he _does_ get it down he won't have to worry about learning to use it. I put a lot of thought into their transformations, and I rather like my plans for Ron, as mean as they are. (conspiratorial laughter)

And I'm going to start chapter 5 now. ^^; There's something I really want to get to.

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	5. Powers of Survival

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

* * *

><p>Chapter 5 : Powers of Survival<p>

* * *

><p>Harry spent a few days longer than expected in the medical wing, and if nothing else he was grateful for the constant warmth the place offered, but he was eventually allowed to take his place once more among the throngs of his classmates.<p>

His win in the Gryffindor-Slytherin match had put Gryffindor in a very good place in the points races, and as the other houses started to run up their own scores Harry, and indeed his whole team, felt rather good about Gryffindor's chances for finally grabbing that championship. The only major hanging point was that his abuse of his broom had almost permanently damaged it, with a crack running halfway down its length; some spellotape and a few strong charms left it working almost as good as new, but during every Gryffindor practice lately Harry found himself frowning at that ever-present 'almost'.

Still, even damaged as it was his Nimbus 2000 was loads better than trying to use one of the school's Cleansweeps, if perhaps a bit less safe. The spellotape would, as those in charge told him, hold his broom together under most conditions, but if he were to do anything too vigorous it would likely fail. So he was told to stay at least relatively near the ground, and he was now watched all the more closely by Madam Hooch, who was ready to catch him with a Levitation spell should his broom fail.

His and Ron's practices were going about as well as ever, with Ron getting better at it by a hair's breadth each day, though Ron had taken to complaining about feeling as though something were missing, having not a clue as to what that might be.

A bright spot that shone soon after his release from the medical wing was his discovery that Professor Lupin seemed to have recovered from whatever illness had struck him, and Harry was finally able to approach the man with the thing that he'd spent all those silent days in his bed thinking about.

"Professor Lupin, sir?"

Professor Remus Lupin brought tired eyes upon the boy who'd spoken; the rings around his eyes and gaunt face spoke of the power with which his recent illness had struck him, but he still managed to bring as much cheer and vigor to the fore as ever, "Ah, yes Harry?"

"I was wondering..." Harry gulped, hoping the professor wouldn't think worse of him for this, "I-Is there some way to fight off a Dementor? I was thinking of how you fought that one off... on the train?"

Lupin raised an eyebrow inquisitively, "And what brought this on? The attack?"

Harry flushed slightly, nodding almost imperceptibly, "It's just that the Dementors, whatever they do, when they do it I, I, well, I black out I guess. And every time it's happened people tell me I tried to fight them..." He bowed his head shamefully, "I just thought, if I had some other way to fight them off, maybe I won't kill myself the next time I see them..." he lowered his head again, adding to his robes, "IF I see them..."

Lupin gave this some thought, gulped a bit from a flask on his desk, then grunted tiredly, "We'll see... but first, I want to know... Why would you be afraid of a mousetrap? Break a finger on one as a kid?" He seemed to grin tiredly at that, though it was obvious he wasn't serious.

Harry looked up right away, "Huh? No! Well, close once, but actually I'm more nervous of cat-nip, I think."

Lupin absorbed this with some confusion, finally deciding that he simply didn't want to know, "Right. Well, I don't think I can help you until after the holidays anyway." He gave his desk a sickly look, "I chose a bad time to fall ill..."

Harry chuckled a bit, "Right. Thank you, professor."

Although the delay in learning... whatever was something of a disappointment, Harry had plenty of disappointments in the weeks coming up to December.

The weather, it seemed, refused to break, and Quidditch practice was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. But although he could keep himself from breaking with enough willpower, it was one day right at the break of December he got truly horrible news: His Nimbus would never fly again.

It wasn't that it was broken, far from it; a broom could be repaired so long as the bulk of its mass was still present. No, the real problem was the enchantments. Normally even wearing-out enchantments could be repaired, or even replaced. It was simply that, apparently breaking due to contact with a Dementor had rather severely 'garbled' the enchantments, and trying to make _them_ like new would be more costly than getting a new broom, and perhaps not even as effective.

Harry was disappointed, but he finally agreed: He'd use it for as long as it held out, but once it started truly wearing out, it was going to be shelved.

Which, unfortunately, happened. Worse, it didn't even happen during a game. Harry had been floating around hardly twenty feet in the air during a practice when he'd seen the Snitch just above him; he'd given his broom a jerk and it responded, rocketing him upwards just before the spellotape failed and instead of one broom, he'd suddenly found himself with two separate pieces of broom. He didn't even get much of a chance to register what'd happened before he fell, back first, to the ground.

Madam Hooch had been prepared, but distracted at that moment, and for most of the fall he was without support, without backup as even Fred and George were too far away to help. He'd managed to turn himself so he could see the ground, and a sort of calm alarm sprang up in his heart as the grass came closer and closer. He heard Madam Hooch shout a spell at him, but it was too late, he was too near the ground going too fast, and Levitation spells were too hard to use on living things, which he would certainly continue to be for as long as it took for him to finally hit the unforgiving ground.

Fortunately for everyone, at the last second, mere feet from the ground he suddenly stopped. He was able to float idly for a second before a strained shout from Madam Hooch warned him to touch ground already, "You're not easy to hold like this!"

Harry took to the ground without a word, taking the happiness at his continued good health from his teammates in stride; he was thinking of something else, something not entirely unrelated to their jubilation.

Madam Hooch hadn't been the only one buoying him up.

* * *

><p>Only a short few weeks before Christmas the weather finally broke; it was no longer raining, snowing, sleeting, drizzling, or any combination of the above. The sun shone and it gave a great lot of the castle a feeling of gratefulness at finally reveling in the light; the ground had taken to glistening in a white frost that had several students feeling festive, especially with the grand decorations strung up in the Great Hall.<p>

Harry, however, wasn't feeling all that festive. In fact, he was becoming quieter and more withdrawn, spending a lot of the time around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room complaining of cold. This, in fact, was where Fred and George found him just before most of the school was to leave to Hogsmeade; they apparently thought he was glum for not being able to go to Hogsmeade, and he humored them as they offered him an odd piece of parchment and showed him how to use it.

The Marauder's Map was, indeed, a remarkable piece of work; it showed him the entire layout of the school, right down to all of the secret passageways with special markers for all of the trick stairs, booby traps, and even the very names and locations of people in each of the halls throughout the school. The only place that Harry could think of that _wasn't_ on the map was the Chamber of Secrets, which made sense considering it wasn't even supposed to be a part of the school, and only a Parselmouth could open it.

Harry, however, had no intention of sneaking off to Hogsmeade. He was truly afraid that if he wandered too far from the fire he might shiver himself to death. The cold had truly hit him hard. At first he'd thought that he merely had a bit of flu, or perhaps a head cold, and had tried to bull his way through it. But the more he fought it, the worse it got, and now he feared he simply didn't have strength enough to keep fighting it.

He decided that night, that he was going to sleep by the fire, and if he still didn't feel better by the morning he was going to go to see Madam Hooch.

Some time later Ron arrived in the common room, followed by Hermione and a large number of other Gryffindors returning from Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione each looked a bit nervously at him, as though wondering what he might be feeling at being left behind again, but that nervousness seemed to... change tone just a bit when they actually saw him.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione tried to lift him up a bit, as though to get a better look at him as Ron hovered a short distance away, looking just as worried.

"Harry, mate, you don't look too good."

Harry shook his head slowly, "Got a cold. 'm gonna see Madam Hooch in the morning."

Ron raised an oddly disconcerted eyebrow, "Hooch? Don't you mean Pomfrey?"

Harry blinked, is that what he meant? "Er, yeah. Sorry, don' feel good."

Hermione tried to pick Harry up into a stand, "Harry, you need to get to bed at least."

Harry shook his head, "I'll sleep here, by the fire..."

Ron grunted but Hermione shook her head, "No, I'll put a warming charm over your bed or something, but you can't just sit on the floor like this. You need real rest! Ron, help me with him."

Ron did as told and Harry bowed to the inevitable, fighting his legs to carry him along the corridor to his dorm, where he graciously flopped into bed, which was soon covered with a warming charm and he was wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. Hermione gave him some sort of potion that tasted remarkably like water and he dozed off.

Before she left them alone Hermione stopped Ron, "Ron, first thing tomorrow make sure that Harry gets straight to the hospital wing. Even if he feels better he can't go around trying to bully through it like he has been."

Ron was going to respond, but suddenly stopped, "Wait, 'has been'?"

Hermione nodded, "Of course! You think I hadn't noticed? He hasn't stopped complaining about cold since that one Quidditch match with the Slytherins. I'll bet he caught cold and just hasn't gone to see anyone about it since, just ignoring it, which is stupid. If you aren't feeling well, you should get treated straight away before it gets any worse!"

Ron rolled his eyes and waved at the air, as though to stop Hermione's tirade short, "Right, right, first thing in the morning." He screwed his eyes up, "Should I wait for him to wake up though? Or wake him up?"

Hermione puzzled for a moment, then said uncertainly, "Well, let him rest, but if he's not awake by noon I'll wake him myself."

Ron sighed, "Fine, Hermione. I'm going to bed now."

Hermione nodded decisively and walked off towards the girl's dorms.

That night Ron slept only fitfully. Dean and Seamus had left for the holidays just after returning from Hogsmeade, which meant that he and Harry had their room to themselves; so Harry, after waking momentarily, decided to rest in his Animagus form for some reason or another. And to Ron's eyes that form looked even worse off. Rather than its normal vibrant pink, it was instead something of a sickly light purple with dark blue veins all across its skin. This form's smaller size seemed to further amplify the deathly appearance that he'd taken, but as Harry seemed to calm a bit Ron wondered if perhaps this form's magical nature would ward off some of Harry's apparent cold.

Still, Ron was worried. That image had disturbed him, and though he slept it was only in one to two-hour sections, and he found himself checking on Harry more than once.

At some point in the night, perhaps around four, he awoke and checked Harry's bed once more, only to find it empty. In his sudden panic he realized that the warming charm had apparently worn off, and his suddenly blood-rushed brain came up with only one place Harry might have gone.

And he found him lying face-first to the fireplace, which had been re-lit, with him laying nearly too close to the hot fire for comfort. Ron decided to move him away so he didn't burn himself, and gently picked him up by the shoulders; maybe he'd be able to remember the warming charm Hermione had used.

Harry had apparently decided that the Common Room ran too great a risk of being seen, and so had changed back into a human. And when Ron got a good look at his face, the first thing that stuck out was that lightning-bolt shaped scar, which glowed in an angry purple relief to the rest of his suddenly extremely pale face; his whole body was a clammy cold and his breathing seemed incredibly labored.

Ron almost dropped his friend in his panic, 'He's getting worse! HERMIONE!' He ran towards the girl's dorms to try to get their female friend, but the moment he stepped foot on the first stair a loud, klaxon-like noise erupted and the stairs all shifted into a single flat plane. At that point any further steps were utterly useless, though Ron tried for a few moments longer, even angrily trying to claw his way up with his Animagus arms, though that seemed just as useless.

"Rrrgh! Fine, I'll take him myself!"

Ron picked Harry, who had been awakened by the loud noise, up by the shoulders, "Ron? Wha's goin' on? Wazza noise?"

"Come on Harry, get your arms around my shoulders, I'm taking you to Madam Hooch!"

"Pomfrey."

"Whatever." Ron shifted impatiently as Harry got in place. He heard Hermione coming out, complaining about the noise and he yelled back, "I'm taking Harry to Madam Pomfrey!"

And he took off at a run, giving no mind to Mrs. Norris, who was just barely fast enough to not get her tail stepped on as he passed and whom hissed angrily at his back.

* * *

><p>The Medical Wing was almost always open, and certainly warmer than the rest of the castle as it had several permanent warming charms in place, but that wasn't enough for Ron who, after setting Harry down on a bed, went shouting for Madam Pomfrey until the mediwitch materialized from behind a door. "What is it? <em>Who<em> is it?"

Ron's panic touched his eyes as he looked at her, "Madam Pomfrey! It's Harry, he's sick! I think he's dying! Look!" He nearly dragged the woman to the bed where Harry lay, half conscious and far more blue than was natural.

Pomfrey's eyes widened nearly as much as Ron's had, "Oh good heavens! For Merlin's sake what happened!"

Ron tried to explain, muttering "He's sick" and "was gonna come first thing", but Madam Pomfrey wasn't really listening, even as Hermione came in, clearly in nearly as much a state as Ron.

"He's ice cold! Here, take this, it's a Pepper Up potion." Harry swallowed and suddenly twin gouts of smoke puffed from his nostrils, "It didn't work? Here, chocolate then; blast it if Dementors got this close Minister Fudge will have me in his ear he will!" Harry ate the chocolate, but all it really did was make him tired.

Hermione tried to explain in the lull, "He's been complaining about the cold for a while now; we put a warming charm on his bed and were going to take him to see you first thing in the morning..."

"He _should_ have come see me right away! Oh, the cold isn't breaking! Warm up, you!" Pomfrey fussed about, placing a warming charm on the bed and bustling after some more Pepper Up potions as Harry turned to Ron and Hermione with a serious expression.

"I'm telling Dumbledore."

Both Ron and Hermione blinked in confusion, "Tell him what?"

"About... about what I did last semester."

There was a moment where even Hermione was confused, then both of Harry's friends understood, "Harry, are you sure? You could get in a lot of trouble..."

Harry nodded decisively, "Yeah. I gotta tell him, I can't keep it secret anymore; 'sides, I keep getting weaker an' weaker. 's'not workin' right." Harry shivered, even beneath the doubled-up warming charm, "'s too cold."

Pomfrey came up on them carrying another Pepper-Up potion and a suddenly suspicious expression, "What secret?"

Ron and Hermione were going to make up some excuse, but Harry interrupted, "Dumbledore, 'n I'll tell you too."

Pomfrey frowned, "Dumbledore's already on his way. Now lie down, you're at death's door already! And don't you dare go to sleep in that state! You'd probably never wake back up!"

Ron's heart skipped a beat, "Is he going to die?"

Pomfrey huffed with a note of panic, "If I can't get him warmed up he might! Oh, where did I put those candles!" She bustled off just as the door opened to admit a tall, wizened old man with long white hair, a long white beard, and an unsettled expression.

"What's wrong?"

Ron jumped to explain, "Harry's freezing cold, and he won't warm up."

Pomfrey came back carrying a slip of paper, which she pressed to Harry's chest, "I've been trying everything I can think of, but it's a magical cold most likely, he isn't warming up no matter what I do."

Harry wrestled up a bit, a determined look on his face, though he was grateful for the sudden warmth that the sheet of parchment gave him; he gave himself a moment of strength and looked up at Dumbledore, "Dumbledore..." He considered, but in the end there really wasn't a good way of putting it, "I'm an Animagus." That was about the best his addled mind could come up with, anyway.

Dumbledore blinked, "A what?"

Harry was going to wrestle with some other way of putting it, with the idea of saying it again, but he simply gave up and transformed.

Dumbledore's eyes widened when he saw Harry change, and for a moment or two was speechless as Harry wrapped his suddenly small body in the blankets he had been given. "I... see. You've been putting that Invisibility Cloak to use, then. ... is this how you found the Chamber of Secrets?"

Harry shivered for a moment and considered changing back, but thought better and simply said, '_[Close.]_'

Hermione nearly gasped and Dumbledore's eyes widened further, but Ron didn't react at all even as Dumbledore said, "You can communicate telepathically?"

Harry nodded weakly, '_[Yeah. I'm magical, I guess.]_'

Behind his glasses Dumbledore was affecting so many possibilities that his eyes momentarily lost focus, such that he wasn't paying as much attention as he could have been when Ron suddenly almost-shouted, "Me too!"

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Me too." Ron seemed to have stiffened considerably, as though he'd built himself up, "I'm some kind of lion, though I haven't gotten the hang of it yet."

Dumbledore remained silent just long enough for Hermione to mutter, "And me, I helped brew the potion. I'm some kind of raccoon-dog or something."

Dumbledore nodded silently, "Yes, that makes sense." He'd heard of raccoon-dogs, they were Japanese if he remembered correctly.

Suddenly Hermione spoke again, "It was at the end of last year, so it hasn't been a full year yet! We can still register!"

Ron was suddenly flabbergasted, "What? What're you talking about, Hermione?"

Hermione bolstered herself and said, "Well, because not everybody can get their change right quickly, the Ministry allows for one year before an Animagus has to be registered. Right professor?"

Dumbledore chuckled as Madam Pomfrey frowned increasingly, though she seemed puzzled as to how to deal with Harry in such a state, "You're right, of course Miss Granger. I'll have the paperwork drawn up right away, but I see no reason to turn it in just yet."

Ron made puzzled noises, but Hermione was only thoughtful, "Is... is it because of Ron? Because he hasn't fully transformed yet?"

Dumbledore smiled, "Well, that's a very good reason. And Mr. Weasley, if you don't mind I suppose there should be no rush for you to 'get a hang on it'; a secret like this could be very useful, I suspect."

There was a moment of silence as this was taken in, then Madam Pomfrey broke it, "What I want to know... is why you've decided now was a good time to tell us this, rather than later, or _earlier_!?"

Harry cringed slightly, _'[Well, I... I can't really change back...]_'

Everyone, Dumbledore included, blinked at that, "What, exactly, do you mean? You were human when I came in this room."

Harry shook his head, then silently explained, '_[I can change into anything, it's the first magic I got in this form... I can change into anything, no matter what it is; even myself.]_' He shivered again, unable to control the contractions, '_[I think... I think my body forgot how to use the original Animagus transformation a while _ago..._]_' Again he shivered, though perhaps as much in shame as the cold, '_[I looked human, but under that I was no bigger than I am now. I was getting colder and colder, faster than if I really had been human.]_' He suddenly hid his face in the blanket, as though hiding.

Hermione seemed puzzled, "If you've been getting cold so quickly... why won't you warm up just as quickly now?"

Harry shook his head from beneath the covers, emitting a weak "Mew!" '_[No! That's just it; I didn't get cold quickly, it was happening all semester!]_'

"But Harry, you weren't cold at all just yesterday... well, day before. Still, that's pretty fast." Hermione was going to correct Ron, remind him of all the signs that Harry'd been giving, but instead decided to listen to what Harry had to say.

And he responded rather quickly, without moving, '_[I've been using my powers. I didn't know it at first, but I was using my magic to warm myself up... I ran out.]_'

Ron still wasn't convinced, "But, but, cats don't get cold like that, do they? I mean, Crookshanks doesn't seem like he hardly even notices the cold..."

Hermione was about to respond yet-again, but Harry beat her to the punch, suddenly throwing the blankets away, "Me-ew!" '_[Look! See?]_' Seeing that only Hermione understood, Harry explained, _'[I'm not just small, I haven't got any fur! My skin is tight, half my blood is right near the surface nearly all the time, and this Tail-]_' Harry grabbed his tail, roughly at first then with a bit of reverence, which calmed him and drove him back to the covers, _'[I can't keep the heat in, and I'm too weak to do anything about it by myself...]_'

There was a moment of silence, then Hermione spoke, "You aren't designed for the cold... probably a tropical species. You haven't got any way to defend yourself against the cold, so you just tried to make yourself hotter, which just made you weaker..." Harry nodded.

'_[I was okay over the summer, it was pretty warm, but it's been so cold I can't stand it.]_'

"Well then we'll just have to keep you warm, won't we? I suppose your, ah, 'powers' are what's keeping you cold at the moment?"

Harry nodded, '_[I guess they have to warm up first... I'm too weak, and trying to stay human takes too much energy...]_' Harry gave Dumbledore a sort of pleading look, to which the man chuckled.

"I'll see what can be done. In the meantime, I'm sure there's a private room you can have here, right Madam Pomfrey?"

Pomfrey nodded dubiously, then turned to Harry, "So let me get this straight. You just need rest and warmth?" Harry nodded and so did she, "Then that settles it. You're staying here! No buts!"

Harry shirked, staying conscious just long enough to wonder, staring Ron in the eye, '_[Close enough, Ron?]_' He then bundled himself up a bit closer and fell limp, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's protests in the matter.

* * *

><p>Harry spent most of the time approaching Christmas in a small private room just outside Madam Pomfrey's door; with multiple warming charms put up Ron and Hermione found it outright balmy, but agreed that Harry, who found the temperature to be very comfortable, was indeed getting his color back. Or, as the twins said, "He's getting the pink-" "-back in his cheeks!"<p>

And as his color returned, so too did his energy and Harry found himself growing increasingly antsy, pacing his room restlessly until Madam Pomfrey would come in and give him a Dreamless Sleep potion which... sometimes worked. Increasing health aside, Madam Pomfrey seemed determined to make him sleep as much as possible, his body simply refused to sleep after a certain point, but he still got far more in the first three days than during the previous three _weeks_.

And during that time Harry found out that Hermione, although not sick, was resting nearly as much as he was, an admission that earned Ron a smack to the shoulder. However, no matter how tired she was she still managed to drag Ron to see him, which would be followed by a study session that lasted for as long as they could stand the heat, which Hermione likened to being in a sauna.

It wasn't until Christmas Eve when professor Dumbledore decided that Harry had been cooped up long enough, revealing as a sort of early Christmas gift that he and Professor Flitwick had charmed his bed with a permanent warming charm, whereas Hermione had said she would charm his clothing each morning as well.

Ron, of course, merely gave his condolences to Harry for all the worry and babying he was getting, for which he was immensely grateful.

Honestly, Harry was just glad to finally sleep in his own bed once more. Glad enough, in fact, that he fell asleep in it straight away, despite not even being tired.

* * *

><p>The next morning Harry woke up when Ron nudged his shoulder, "Hey wake up, presents!"<p>

With hardly a squeaky yawn he sat up and gave Ron a sleepy look, then looked at the pile at Ron's feet, his bright green eyes widening with realization, "Mew!" He quickly scuttled to the foot of his bed and looked over the edge, brightly smiling down at the pile of wrapped boxes and parcels left there.

Ron was already ripping the paper off of his gifts, and the first of his complaints revolved around a thick maroon sweater, "Another sweater from mum... maroon _again_... see if you got one."

He had. He'd gotten a sweater that was large enough to wrap him up entirely, some pies, cakes, and other Christmas sweets and beneath them all, a single long package which rolled and laid alone, separate somehow from all the others.

"What's that one?" Ron gave the package a curious look as he waved around a new pair of maroon socks.

Harry shrugged, piping out a puzzled "Me-w."

Without any further delaying Harry took to ripping the odd package open with his short-but-effective claws, mewing appreciatively as he got a good look at the gleaming item within.

It was a broom, its polished handle glimmering as though the light wished nothing more than to reach the very vibrating core before being thrust back out, creating a shine not unlike that of a precious gem; the hundreds of hand-picked birch twigs created a tail hardly any rougher than his own and when he lifted it it responded without hesitation, hardly feeling any heavier than air, and when he pulled his paws from it it remained in its position.

"I don't believe it. Is that a Firebolt?" Ron's eyes were wide as he looked it over, seemingly too afraid to so much as touch it.

Harry nodded, it was indeed a Firebolt; to get a better look at it he changed to a human and started stroking it almost disbelievingly as Ron muttered appreciatively, "Wow."

"Yeah." Harry agreed breathlessly, "It's so sparkly!"

Ron choked at hearing this, questioning dubiously, "'Sparkly'?"

Harry nodded, "Is there a card?" Harry joined Ron as the two of them dove into the packaging looking for a name, but they found none.

"Blimey Harry, who would spend that much on you?"

Harry shrugged, not having a clue, "Dunno." He ran a finger gently down the shaft, quietly marveling at its beauty, "It's cool though."

Ron screwed up an eyebrow, "Harry, if I didn't know you better I'd think you wanted to stare at it more than ride it."

Harry blinked at that, 'Uhhh...' "Right! Right! I'll bet this'll be much better than the Nimbus, right? Can't wait to practice with it!"

Ron snorted and he and Harry found something else to talk about for a bit, Harry checking for additional packages, which revealed two small packages now almost covered in discarded paper. One was relatively small, perhaps the size of an old-style pocket watch, and the other roughly the size of a hard-cover book; the larger one he opened first to reveal that it was indeed a book, specifically a long, thick book in small type that Ron outright scoffed at, "Leave it to Hermione to find you something like that."

"No, wait, look at the title..." Harry lifted the book to show the title, which was written in gleaming gold leaf, '_Manticores to Chupacabras: A Study of Magics and Magical Creatures of the Tropics_'.

Ron frowned at the long title, but then his eyes widened as he realized its significance, "Oh! Leave it to Hermione to find you something like _that!_" Harry chuckled lightly.

Putting the book down carefully Harry picked up the last gift. He gave it a light squeeze and a smell came out that caused him to giggle lightly, "Wonder what it is?" Ron smiled and Harry wasted no more time in pulling it open.

"Like it?" The look on Ron's face left no question as to whom had sent the gift.

Harry looked over the package with an odd sort of chagrined smile, then gave his friend a sort of side-long look, "Catnip, Ron?"

Ron chuckled again, "Yeah, I guess. I saw it and thought you might like it."

What Harry now had in his hand was a small package of treats with the Honeydukes logo; the label claimed that they would "Make you act like a cat!" and might even "Grow some whiskers! Entertain your friends!"

The treats themselves were super-thin mints hardly any thicker than hairs, "Kitty Whiskers, huh?" Harry pulled one out as he read the name out loud, "Made with real catnip; makes me glad its just you and me here."

Ron chuckled again, wry grin firmly planted in place, "You gonna try one?"

Harry tentatively pulled out a single hair-like sweet; even just sniffing the smell was enough to make him light-headed, making him inwardly dread what it'd be like to actually ingest it, while at the same time emboldening him. With a smile he turned a sly eye to Ron, "Only if you do, too." He laughed, "Yoo Doo Too!"

Ron waved his hands before him, "Alright, alright; fair enough!" Harry handed him a silvery sliver and Ron popped it into his mouth, sucking on it to savor the taste before swallowing, followed by Harry.

If Scabbers was afraid when Crookshanks showed up, he was outright horrified by the image of Ron crawling around on his hands and knees and meowing with Harry. Said boy, who had already shown an affinity for taking playful swipes at him, was sitting in his pink-cat form Mewing nearby, giving him grins from time to time in his hiding place under Ron's bed.

When Hermione showed up with Crookshanks in tow it was all that the poor, abused rat could take: He fled the room at top speed and honestly wasn't sure _when_ he'd finally stopped.

Ron watched him go with interest, giving some idea to chasing him, "Hermione... too many cats I think."

Hermione looked between Harry, who was in his feline form, and Ron, who was perfectly human; the both of them were going around sniffing things and making cat-like noises; Harry seemed to be especially out of his mind, positively hopping around the room at a whole until he'd finally noticed Hermione and Crookshanks, when he suddenly stopped and started excitedly hopping straight up and mewing animatedly at Crookshanks, who only stared balefully at him, the bit of tinsel tied around his neck not making him any more pleasant to look at and likely all the more grumpy.

"Ron? Harry? What have you two gotten into?"

Ron smiled cattily up at her and threw the package at her, driving her to drop Crookshanks, who immediately went off after Scabbers, "One of Harry's presents!"

Hermione looked the small package over, "Who got him this?"

Harry jumped on Hermione's shoulder, '_[Ron did!]_' The excitement in his 'voice' was quite readily heard.

Hermione jumped, in part from surprise at Harry's action, not expecting him to jump on her shoulder like that, and in part in surprise at Ron, "Ron!? You got Harry _catnip_ treats?"

Ron laughed childishly, "Seemed like a good idea at the time! Have I got any whiskers?"

Hermione blinked stupidly at her friends, even as Harry jumped off her shoulder and started inspecting his own snout, "Ron! Do you know how long these _last_?"

Ron shrugged, "Nope." He slinked to his bed and curled up, still smiling, though he stopped when he spotted Harry.

"Ron, these last for _hours!_ And you need to take more than one to grow any whiskers; still, you're going to be like this for most of the day! I just hope you're normal by supper time!"

Ron grunted, "Who cares? Dumbledore already knows about Harry, and besides, it's not like Kitty Whiskers are illegal or anything. Harry, mate, you're floating."

Hermione took a moment to catch the matter-of-fact statement, but upon looking at him she found that Harry was, indeed, floating as he inspected his snout. When Harry took notice of Ron's statement he twisted to look himself over, '_[Huh, so I am.]_' He grinned and flipped a couple times, '_[Hah! Who needs a broom!?]_'

Ron chuckled as Hermione rolled her eyes, landing them on the broom that was now laying on Harry's bed, "Harry, who sent you that?"

'_[Don't you remember? Ron did!]_'

Hermione blinked; she'd have figured that Ron would have bought himself a broom rather than Harry, "Ron bought you a broom as well?"

Harry blinked widely, '_[Oh! No, I don't know who sent that, they didn't send a note! Do you suppose it could have been Dumbledore?]_'

Hermione blinked in barely-hidden alarm, though she needn't have tried to hide it as the boys were in no state to notice, "They didn't send you a card?"

'_[Nope.]_'

"But Harry, don't you think that's kind of... suspicious?"

Harry blinked as Ron yawned, '_[Hmm? I don't know, I guess so. Oh! And thank you for the book! Where'd you find it?]_'

Hermione gave the broom a suspicious look, "In the library at first, that one I ordered from a magical book store." She gave the door a look and hovered toward it, then gave Ron and Harry a look, "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Ron took to lying about lazily and watching Harry as he floated about the room, exploring the crooks and corners that were newly available to him. Ron wondered what had Hermione's panties in a bunch, but then he took to wondering on how the treats might affect his own Animagus form, which was also technically feline. The only thing that kept him from it was that his Animagus form was quite a bit larger than Harry's, and he wouldn't have had nearly as much fun of it.

Hermione's voice came back and Harry hid above the door as Ron watched it with mild interest.

Professor McGonagall entered just ahead of Hermione, who pointed at Harry's bed; just before McGonagall was going to speak, however, her head was assaulted by a pink blur that fell from the sky, "ME-MEW!"

To say that McGonagall was surprised was an understatement, but as she tried to get the creature off of her head it was clear that she was outright gob smacked, so disturbed as to have no idea what to do.

"Professor! Harry, get off her head!" Hermione reached out to the little pink critter imploringly, finally managing it when Professor McGonagall stopped moving and Harry jumped enthusiastically into her arms.

Ron watched silently as Professor McGonagall seemed to put things together, "Harry?" She didn't even look back at Hermione and the little pink creature, instead standing stock-still and putting a hand to her forehead.

Hermione nodded, but Harry took it upon himself to reintroduce himself to his head of house, '_[Yep! It's me, Harry Potter! I'm a cat!]_'

McGonagall stared wide-eyed at Harry, who was now floating before her, "W-what have you done?"

Hermione reached weakly toward her teacher, "You mean, you didn't know?"

Professor McGonagall's suddenly pale face moved to a frown, "Know what, exactly?"

Hermione suddenly flushed, "I'm sorry! I thought Professor Dumbledore'd have told you! We, that is Harry Ron and I, we're Animagi... Professor Dumbledore said he was filling out our paperwork..." Hermione seemed truly flustered, as though she wasn't prepared to be needed to explain such things.

McGonagall was silent for a moment, ignoring Harry just long enough for him to float before her, upside down, and give her a raspberry, "And Harry is magical?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically, '_[Yep! Don't know what kind though.]_' He zipped to his bed and picked up the book, '_[But Hermione got me this! Maybe this'll have me in it!]_'

She was silent for a moment longer, then spoke softly but firmly, "I see. I'll have to speak with Dumbledore over this, but for now I suggest you try to keep the other Professors from finding out... Is this strange personality change related to your form?" She gave Harry a lifted-eyebrow look.

Again Hermione explained, "Actually Professor, Ron got Harry some catnip treats for Christmas..." She flashed him an irritated look, "In humans..." Again, she glared at Ron, "-they're supposed to make one act like a cat. But Harry is already a cat..."

McGonagall gave the package a dark look, recognizing it for what it was, "I... see. In that case, I'm going to have to ask Harry to surrender them to me now." She put out her hand and Harry almost reluctantly did as asked, "Good. Catnip is very dangerous to any self-respecting feline, you can trust me on that."

Harry nodded enthusiastically, adding brightly, '_[Yeah! 'Cause you're a cat too!]_'

She coughed lightly, "Yes. I'll be taking these to Dumbledore right away. Now, about that Broom."

Ron was suddenly interested, "Broom?"

"Yes. Is it true it had no name attached?"

Harry nodded, '_[Not a one.]_' He excitedly picked it up and floated with it in his paws, holding it upside down and waving it quickly back and forth before the professor, '_[And it's really sparkly! See?]_'

She gave it a suspicious look, "Yes. Well, I'm sorry to have to say this Harry, but I'm afraid I can't let you keep it."

Harry blinked, but Ron beat him to the punch, "What? Why?"

McGonagall gave Ron an almost cross look, "Because we don't know who sent it, so we don't know what might have been done to it before it arrived. It could have been anyone, even Sirius Black." She gave Harry an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, Harry, but we're going to have to check it for jinxes..." She noticed that Harry didn't seem particularly perturbed, "I'm afraid I'm not the best at it myself, but I dare say that Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will likely strip it down."

'_[But I can have it back when you're done, right?]_'

Though a tad taken-aback by Harry's blasé attitude, Professor McGonagall nodded, "If there are no problems with it, of course. Depending on what's found it may well have to be destroyed... I'm sorry, but it has to be done." she finished firmly.

Harry looked at the broom, as though trying to find the curses and hexes himself, then shrugged, '_[Kay. Who needs a broom anyway? I can fly!]_' He cheerfully pushed the broom into the professor's hands, who recovered herself after a short moment of shock.

"Of course, I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from flying while there are other people about."

'_[Awwww...]_'

She frowned, but inwardly smiled at knowing that Harry's current behavior was most likely catnip-induced, "Complain all you want, but you need to keep as much of this secret as you can; _all_ of you. Don't tell anyone else unless Professor Dumbledore or I have advised you to. And one more thing:" She stopped, noting that she had the attention of all three students, "I advise you not to leave the Gryffindor Tower until your... treats have worn off, and to do it as a human." She gave Hermione a nod before leaving, saying, "I hope to see you at supper, then."

After Professor McGonagall had left Hermione was alone with her co-conspirators in silence, Harry seemingly despondent about not being allowed to fly. She turned on Ron with a sudden scrutinizing expression, "Wait a moment! Ron, did you chase after Scabbers before I came in?"

Ron nodded calmly, "Yeah, so?"

Hermione looked between her friends, smiled, and turned to leave, "Oh, no reason!"

Ron watched her leave with disinterest, shrugged, and took to napping. Harry's glum mood quickly evaporated and he got out Ron's chess set and started a game of 'Chase The Pieces', to Ron's mild disinterest.

* * *

><p>Ron's eyes darted to each and every corner he could see as they all walked to the Great Hall, an almost sickly expression on his face, "I can't believe I was chasing after Scabbers, he'll probably never trust me again!"<p>

Hermione's grin was almost plastered in place, "I told you: That's what cats _do_!"

Harry smiled, "And besides: He smells really funny, especially to Crookshanks."

Ron frowned at Harry, "What do you mean, especially to Crookshanks?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno, but I think Crookshanks can smell his fear differently than I do, and I don't blame him! I changed into a rat once and a cat chased after me; I almost ran into a mouse trap, worst day of my life I tell you! Well, short of when my parents were killed, I suppose; I finally tricked the cat into snapping the trap on himself, and boy was HE mad! Haha!" (1)

Hermione scoffed, "He didn't break his paw, did he?"

Harry shook his head, "Naw, just couldn't walk right for a few days. Too bad I couldn't do magic out of school, or I probably would have tried to heal him."

Ron suddenly scowled, "And it's a good thing you hadn't! He tried to kill you! _Scabbers! Come on!_"

"Oh Ron, honestly."

"C'mon Ron, it's not that bad..."

"_Not That Bad!?_ Are you mad! Crookshanks probably _killed_ him! And if he isn't dead, Scabbers is probably scared to death! And cold! There's no telling where he might be!"

Hermione huffed, "Well Crookshanks is locked in my room, like you asked, so no worries about _that_!"

They walked for a bit longer in silence, Ron still hoping to catch some glimpse of his missing rat until they arrived at the Great Hall. Most of the house tables had been moved away and most of the professors were now arranged around a single table in the middle of the room, along with a few other students from other houses. Professor McGonagall gave Harry a special look which Harry returned confidently, which seemed to satisfy her.

Upon sitting down Harry noticed that Professor Dumbledore's usual wizard hat had been replaced by an odd witch's hat with some sort of stuffed vulture on the top, his usual merry expression seeming only to amplify the image of oddness.

Hermione, however, noticed something else entirely, "Where's Professor Lupin?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed, almost dramatically, "Ah but I'm afraid he's taken ill again. Poor timing, I'd say, for him to fall ill on Christmas."

Harry looked with chagrin into a flagon of cranberry juice, "I'm sorry to hear it."

Dumbledore brightened, "Oh I wouldn't worry about it, you've made him your special potion I hope, Professor Snape?" Snape nodded and Dumbledore responded by gracing Harry with another look, "And I must say how glad I am to be seeing _you_ up and about again, Harry. Keeping warm, I hope?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, thank you." The unknown students looked at him with some interest, but Harry ignored them, raising his juice with a smile, "Well, may I say 'To a warm Christmas!'?"

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes brightened, "And may those who can't join us share in that warmth." He raised his own glass and took a good swig, followed by most of the others at the table.

As Harry ate, he came to understand: This was contentment.

* * *

><p>Ron continued to search for Scabbers all through New Years, and when the Spring semester started up Harry had hardly made it past the magical contents of just one small rain forest in the <em>Study<em>, which it turned out had been charmed to add and remove pages as one went through them. It seemed, and Hermione agreed with him, that it was probably charmed to update with new content as on-going studies came about and were concluded.

And the depth to which it went was staggering; if one ever wanted to know how many Manticores had ever been bred to have more than one tail, the _Study_ would be the place to look. Why, it even had the entire known genealogy of the only known three-tailed Manticore, right down to the names of the handlers, final ages, birth dates, and even the number of people each one had killed (with a special check mark near the name denoting whether it had killed the breeder).

Still, Harry learning new, interesting information about Manticores didn't get him permission to go floating about as he now wanted to do, and with his gifted broom still in the shop he was largely ground-bound, and now that he was aware of it, the desire to leave the ground was starting to bug him.

One thing that gave him strength was when Professor Lupin finally decided he was ready to teach him to defend against the Dementors.

"But I don't think we'd be able to bring a Dementor into the school, so I have to know... do you fear _them_ more than mousetraps?"

Harry nodded with come conviction, "Yes, mousetraps are nothing to be afraid of..." He ticked his fingers together a moment, then added, "And neither is catnip."

Lupin blinked, "Right. Good. I'll let you know when we're all ready."

Harry smiled, "Thanks."

* * *

><p>Some time later Professor Lupin told Harry when and where they were going to meet to have their Anti-Dementor lesson, so now Harry was finding his way to the supposedly empty History of Magic classroom.<p>

Upon arriving he entered with a curious glance, wondering idly when Professor Lupin might show up with whatever plan he'd cooked up, having not put in any effort into thinking up a plan on his own. It was dark in the room, the lights all out as it was currently not in use, but Harry didn't mind as his eyes saw through the gloom without any effort so he left the candles unlit, something which seemed to puzzle Professor Lupin when he came in and lit them himself.

"Harry, why are you standing here in the dark?"

Harry chuckled, "I'm not afraid of the _Dark_, Professor."

Lupin blinked at this, but apparently recovered, "Right," he heavily lifted a suitcase onto Professor Binns' desk and explained, "This is a Boggart; scoured the castle since Tuesday and rather luckily found this one lurking in Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the closest we're going to get to a real Dementor; soon as it sees you that's what it'll become; assuming, that is, that Dementors are what you fear above all else." Lupin gave him a look, "If not then I fear I'll have to think of something else."

Harry nodded, finally understanding why the man had so insisted that Dementors be his greatest fear.

"Right, well, what I'm going to show you is very advanced magic, well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Levels. It's called the Patronus charm, and when done correctly it will summon a Patronus; a sort of protective spirit that gets between you and the Dementor, like a kind of shield." Harry nodded, dubious, "Now, the incantation is the easy part. _Expecto Patronum_." Lupin did the charm and a fine white mist came from the end of his wand. Harry gave it an odd look, "After that's the hard part, but try the incantation first."

Harry did, mimicking Lupin's wand waving and, quite to the Professor's surprise, a misty pink fluff fell over his wand, not quite making it out the end of the wand but merely collecting there; though Lupin seemed absolutely bewildered by the color, Harry only inwardly sighed, wondering if he'd be stuck with it for the rest of his life.

Lupin seemed like he was about to ask something, but instead gathered himself, "Right, now's the hard part. To make it work, and this is the important part, you have to think of your happiest memory and use that to cast the charm; the happier the better. It doesn't even have to be a memory, a hope for the future is fine so long as it makes you really, really happy."

Harry gave this some thought, wondering what would make him happy; he gave his wand a look and thought, 'The day I found out I was a wizard was pretty good.' Shrugging, he pulled on this thought and the good feelings associated with it: He was no longer destined to be Dudley's punching bag at school, he was away from his Muggle family for nearly the entire year, he had real friends for the first time in his life, he was exploring a new and exciting world, and even perhaps someday become a wizard as great as Dumbledore. "_Expecto Patronum._"

Lupin grinned widely at the fine mist that came from his wand, though there was a tic of worry that appeared as well, which Harry shared when he noticed the pink color of the mist.

They shared a quiet moment, but Lupin finally recovered, "Ehm, right. Let's see; I wasn't expecting you to get that on the first try like that. Oh well, it isn't really the charm itself that's all that hard, really, it's pulling it off while a Dementor is coming after you and pulling out your happy thoughts as fast as you can have them. One should do for now, of course, but it gets harder the more Dementors there are." He went over to the briefcase and undid the locks, moving around to its back and looking at Harry expectantly, "Ready Harry?"

Harry nodded and Lupin threw open the case.

The Boggart evidently thought Harry's deepest fear was of a Dementor, but it couldn't have been more wrong. No, absolutely not. That black, dark creature couldn't take his thoughts, couldn't fool with his emotions.

That dark, disgusting creature seemed confused, as it didn't know what to do with what it was seeing, but that was fine, let it be confused, it wouldn't get anything from Him! His face was a heated glare almost instantly and he found that he was snarling when Professor Lupin was wrestling him back, the Dementor gone from sight.

"Harry! Harry, what's wrong with you!"

Harry blinked furiously, feeling utterly lost, "Wha? Where'd it go? Did it become a Dementor? It did, right?" There was a manic quality to his voice that he only barely noticed, his heart quickly finding its proper place in his chest.

Lupin's eyes were nearly falling from their sockets, "Good Lord Harry! What were you thinking! Were you going to smack it?"

Harry blinked wildly, "Wha? I-I dunno, I don't remember."

The Professor took on a highly expressive look, "Harry, I don't think we should do this anymore, not if you're going to rush it every time you see it, before even trying the Patronus!"

Harry scowled lightly, "What did you think I wanted help with! I don't even get to realize it's _there_!" He blinked, "It, well, it _was_ there.. right?"

Lupin gave him a wide-eyed look, then made a show of calming down, a hand to his forehead, "Yes, Harry, it was there. But... if you can't say what you were thinking, what were you _feeling_...?" He looked at Harry expectantly from between his fingers.

Harry blinked, "Well... I dunno, nothing I guess. All I know is..." He frowned lightly, "Is it won't get me. It can't, not ever." He ended on a note of vehemence that surprised even himself.

Lupin was quiet for a moment, leaving Harry to stew quietly before finally saying, "That sounds like a defense mechanism..." When Harry gave him a confused, curious look he elaborated, "A Dementor attacks people by sucking out their good feelings, but if you haven't got any good feelings it can't draw them out, can it?" For a moment he was lost in his own thoughts, only dimly aware of Harry's presence, "And if you haven't got _any_ feelings you're as good as invisible to it..."

Harry took this in with a light frown, "Okay... but why did I _rush_ it? Why do I _keep_ rushing them. Isn't that kind of... I dunno, suicidal? It doesn't sound like a very good defense."

Lupin gave him a puzzled, disconcerted look, "I'm not sure." He paused for a moment, then returned Harry's forgotten wand, "Here, I'm going to need to speak with Professor Dumbledore about this; we can't continue with this until then, I'll let you know about more later." He picked up his briefcase and left the room, not quite in a hurry but in no hurry to stay; he walked down the hall before turning a corner, nearly running into Professor Snape, with whom he had a discussion before taking something from him and moving on.

Harry gave his wand an odd look, 'When did I drop this?'

There was a noise and Harry looked suddenly to the door, where Professor Snape was giving him a sneering look, "And What, pray tell, could you have possibly done to get Professor Lupin into such a hurry?"

Without blinking, stalling, pausing, or even thinking Harry responded, "Almost kill myself, I think." He gave his wand a disgruntled look, "And throw my wand, apparently." While Snape was lightly stunned Harry started walking distractedly out the door, "Excuse me, Professor."

"Just a moment, Potter. I'd like to have a word with you." Harry stopped and looked up at the Professor.

"Okay?"

* * *

><p>End Chapter 5<p>

* * *

><p>(1) And this is why Harry initially wondered if he might be afraid of mousetraps.<p>

Chapter Six is already in the works, but not quite finished, of course. Not much to say other than that, so I won't. Eks Dee.

This was actually a much-cut-down version of what it had been before; it was running into fifteen pages rather than my usual average of eight, and I decided that I had to find a good spot to cut the extra out and put that stuff into chapter six. As it is this one is nine pages long, at nine-point text with no spaces between paragraphs, so I'd imagine it's even longer after fanfiction-dot-net's finished reformatting it.

To my reviewers: Thank you, now _I_ can't get the image of Harry playing with a piece of string out of my head! And I'm glad it didn't go into the "Oh god it makes my eyes bleed" category, though I have made a few of those. (For reference look up "Purple" and "To Be a Man" on my author page, both are good for a laugh. Eks-Dee. ) To finally end the debate: Yes Ron's animagus is that of an Entei, though as I said before I'm going to be rather mean to him. Entei's legs aren't exactly like tree trunks, but that was really just an expression of their comparative size and sturdiness, Entei's legs being the thickest of those of the three cats. As for Hermione: Eevee is one of my favorite Pokemon, and being the bookworm she is she isn't liable to do much with her Animagus form for a while; her form plays a role in the story, and yes she will eventually evolve. I already know how as well as when, but until then she'll be largely uninterested in trying very much with it.

Though there _was_ a good point brought up in a review: The existence of elemental stones. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if the wizarding world _did_ have special stones designed to amplify specific elements such as fire or ice, perhaps something like some sort of ruby-embedded, shocked-quartz; quartz being a stone oft-rumored to have magic and psychic-ability-enhancing properties. Since the very genesis of shocked-quartz is a sudden introduction of incredibly high levels of extraordinarily intense energy, I could only imagine that such stones would be rather potent; though, considering the only ways to make shocked-quartz are nuclear bombs and asteroid impacts, they would seem to be exceedingly rare in most places.

Now to get back to work. XD

_Edit (11/24/2009): Added an 's' to 'seriou'. Fixed some italicization errors (the single-quotes around Harry's telepathy isn't meant to be italicized). Grammarical correction. Yes, I'm nit-picking._

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	6. Thoughtful Regrets

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6 : Thoughtful Regrets<p>

* * *

><p>Remus Lupin was not calm, nor was he panicked, he was in fact simply unsettled. Still, 'unsettled' was plenty enough to set him to pacing the foyer in Professor Dumbledore's office, waiting for the senior Professor to arrive.<p>

Finally the older man arrived with a smile, "Is there something you needed, Remus?"

Remus nodded almost distractedly, "Yes, it's Harry."

"Oh? Well best settle down then. Lemon Drop?" Dumbledore pulled a pair of lemon drops from a bowl and offered one to his colleague, "No? If you insist, then. Now, what's the trouble?" He popped one drop in his mouth and set to watching the other teacher.

"It's Harry, he's not acting right, especially with the Dementors."

Dumbledore nodded, "I agree." He chuckled, "From what I hear he has a very unusual reaction to them. I take it you're worried for him, then?"

Lupin blinked, "Well, yes. But anyway it's strange; he and I were just practicing with a Boggart, but Harry didn't even give any thought to the Patronus, just threw his wand away and charged the thing. I tell you it almost seemed as bewildered as I was!"

"That _is_ unsettling..."

Lupin nodded distractedly, "But when I asked him about it he said that he didn't _Have_ any feelings! So of course the Dementors couldn't take his good feelings if he doesn't have any, but why would Harry have a defense mechanism like that? Against Dementors I mean. That ought to have been only the third time he's ever seen them, right?"

"Fourth." Dumbledore calmly corrected his former student, already used to making educated guesses rather than asking Remus Lupin to explain his strange ramblings.

"Hnn?"

"If I count right, I remember talk of the train, then another at the gates, the Quidditch game, which I'm _still_ cross about, I'm afraid... and earlier under your tutelage, unless I'm mistaken?"

Lupin paused, looking thoughtful, "Right, I'd forgotten about the gate, and I suppose he isn't allowed to Hogsmeade, so no more than four." He sighed, exasperated, "But that doesn't explain how he would learn to – to..."

"To?"

"Well, to shut them out like that, as though he knows how but doesn't want to admit it..." Dumbledore didn't say anything, merely raising an inquisitive eyebrow to the former student. "But the only explanation I can come up with doesn't make any sense either!"

Dumbledore was intrigued, "And what might that explanation be?"

Lupin acted for a moment almost as though he'd been caught in something, "Well, the first time, on the train, I wondered for just a moment if maybe Harry wasn't really Harry..."

Dumbledore nodded silently, "And his behavior of late can't have helped your suspicions..."

Remus nodded, "Yes! Professor what if he's, well, what if he's Sirius Black in disguise?!"

There was a moment of silence, during which Dumbledore considered, mulling over his response, "Lemon Drop?"

Lupin was momentarily aghast, "Professor! We're talking about Sirius Black!"

Dumbledore chuckled, "I don't think that's a concern. You're forgetting something, Remus..."

Lupin blinked, "Forgetting what?"

"Halloween."

"Halloween?"

"Yes, when the Fat Lady was being attacked by Sirius, Harry was Feasting with the rest of us."

Lupin's eyes widened rather severely, "I... hadn't thought of that."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Yes, well even so, I _do_ wonder... could an Auror of Azkaban have spirited Harry to safety, and then taken his place? If so I'd have to express my gratitude..."

Lupin was struck, "D'you... really think that's possible?"

Dumbledore chuckled, "Possible? Yes, but unlikely. Harry may well simply be an odd duck. It wouldn't be the first time he's stood out or shocked and awed us all."

Lupin chuckled wryly, sobering quickly, "His scent is different from what I remember."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Not too different, but enough to have me on edge. It's about the right _amount_ of change for him to have become a Werewolf... but not a werewolf."

Dumbledore smiled, "I see. Not much that can be done with _that,_ I'm afraid. I'll keep it in mind, but I assure you that everything is under control." Lupin nodded, turning to leave before Dumbledore spoke one last time, "Oh and Remus. I think those private lessons you were having are a wonderful idea. Be sure to keep at them." Lupin smiled weakly before leaving.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks went by in a sort of breeze for Harry; he wasn't allowed to fly very much, but he made up for it by spending long expanses of time filtering through the <em>Study<em>, looking for that one clue, that one reference that might make sense to him, though going perhaps a bit too deeply to actually get through it quickly. His studies had almost started to get boring, except of course for Care of Magical Creatures. As it was, Malfoy had decided to try to be disruptive as much as possible in COMC, many times doing exactly what he'd been told _not_ to do, seemingly trying to get Hagrid in trouble.

Hagrid himself, though he hadn't started showing them Flobberworms, had yet to outdo himself after that first lesson, apparently deciding that the most dangerous creatures were best left to the more experienced students. Of course his idea of 'less dangerous' usually only meant 'more predictable' and 'more controllable', but to Malfoy's delight 'less deadly' was not in this particular formula, so there were plenty of chances for him to kill himself with a careless foot planted on a tail, or a cloak blown into something's face. On Harry and Hermione's cautioning Hagrid had started giving extra watch to Malfoy and his friends, and by mid February the toeing around the Slytherins seemed to be wearing the large man down a bit; most of the creatures he was introducing by that point were more powerful defensively than on the attack, and the only way that Malfoy could have hurt himself with the odd armored worm-like creatures were if they were to roll their half-ton bodies over him. (Malfoy was, of course, not to be denied even in this case, having done everything up to and including kicking them when Hagrid's back was turned, but they were simply too lazy to move, saving him from a pair of broken legs.)

His Anti-Dementor lessons, however, were not going well at all. After four sessions all he'd earned from them was the knowledge that he was getting stronger over time, and that a Dementor (even if only a faux one) can in fact be thrown backwards from a strong enough punch. Perhaps helpfully he was starting to be able to recall what went on while the Dementor was nearby, but for the most part he was rather disappointed in his performance. Apparently, self-control wasn't really his 'thing', which disappointed him and drove him even more to get control over it; in fact the lack of control seemed to drive his fear of them, so he was doubly motivated to solve the perplexing mystery.

Perhaps the greatest moment came when Professor McGonagall stopped him and Ron in the hallway outside the Common Room one morning, handing Harry something long and well polished, "Here, totally jinx free. You've got a very good friend out there somewhere, Potter."

Harry, wide-eyed, took the broom he'd been handed, "Oh wow..."

"Yeah... it's your Firebolt!"

Harry was almost mystified, "I'd forgotten about this..."

Ron choked violently but Professor McGonagall merely smiled, "You'd best get some practice on that, I'd hate for you to go into a game on a broom you've never ridden."

Harry nodded distractedly and they dispersed, Ron still eying the broom reverently, "Hey Harry, you suppose I could have a ride on that sometime?"

Harry nodded with a smile, "Of course!"

When they entered the Common Room they were surrounded by a swarm of amazed and impressed Gryffindors, the broom passed around the room and gawked at shamelessly as bright-eyed faces deliberated how such a development would impact the Quidditch team.

During the commotion Harry heard Ron scoff, making him turn to see Hermione approaching, a nervous expression on her face. "Hullo Hermione. Got my broom back."

"Oh, well that's good, right? And now you know it's safe, right?"

Harry allowed a light laugh, "Right. I hardly remembered Professor McGonagall taking it, honestly."

Hermione nodded, "Well that's probably because you were still _enjoying_ Ron's gift, right?"

Ron snorted displeasurably, "We were distracted, so it was the perfect time, right?"

Hermione huffed, eying the broom with a note of care, "You'd better put that away before something happens to it. I'd best get back to work." she turned around but stopped long enough to give Harry a look, "I'm glad you got it back, but I hope you understand?"

Harry nodded, "It's not paranoid when someone's really after you." She only smiled weakly and walked away as Ron volunteered to take the Firebolt up to their room, holding it as though it were made of glass.

* * *

><p>Later that night found Ron and Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, Ron struggling to stay awake as Harry floated overhead, apparently displeased about something.<p>

"What're you so grumpy about up there, anyway?" He needn't have bothered, as the string of angry mewing sounds was almost entirely indecipherable, leaving him confused with a mild headache after only a few moments as Harry gesticulated furiously in mid-air, apparently exasperated over something, "Okay _okay!_ Geeze, sorry I asked."

Suddenly Harry zoomed to his face, an apologetic look in his eyes, mewing a bit more, though adding some odd element to the words that seemed to allow Ron to understand them, as though he were projecting their meaning to his mind, '_[I'm sorry, do you want to go to bed? We don't have to stay here?]_'

Ron shook his head lightly, "Sorry, mate, I just can't go all the way. It's... it's like there's something missing! I never knew it would be this complicated! I mean yea it's kind of cool how I can become something so big and probably powerful, but what good is it if I can't actually _do_ it right?!" Ron wasn't even paying attention to Harry by this point, instead simply yelling randomly and throwing his arms about for good measure, "You and Hermione got _both_ of _yours_ by the end of summer! But me? I can't even get it after almost a whole year of practice! I mean, yeah yours are both a whole lot smaller, I don't know maybe that has something to do with it, but if I could just figure out what's missing I could get it I know I could! And _what's_ with all three of us being things none of us have ever heard of?! I mean, yeah it's not like I know all that much about magical creatures, but you and Hermione should at least be able to find something right? But what've you found? _Nothing!_ If it was just one of us fine, but all three? What's that about anyway!? It's like somebody's messing with us, or maybe Hermione mixed the potion wrong and made a new one nobody's ever heard of, like some kind of Magical Creature Animagus potion or something. And Why didn't Dumbledore _say_ anything about it when we told him!? Nooo! Instead, he wants us to keep it even more secret than we had been!" He grumbled as he curled up a bit, glaring at the floor, "It's like I'm stepping on Silver Stones; I can hardly see them but I know if I step off them I'll fall in the lake or something. Stupid Basilisk! Wake up so I can kill you!" He finally ended with a kick to the aforementioned beast's hide that was followed by a long, heated glare, the boy himself breathing hard and tense almost to the point of shaking.

Harry approached slowly, cautiously, '_[Maybe we could both use some fresh air...]_'

Ron acknowledged the semi-question with a furious punch to the beast's remarkably-still-fresh flesh, then with a breath he seemed to bleed his remaining anger and frustration away, finally turning a wry smile to his pinkest friend, "Sorry 'bout that, guess we both had to yell a bit, eh?"

Harry smiled, swinging his tail a bit, '_[Don't worry about it! I mostly yelled selfish stuff, but you actually had some really good points! I wonder what it is you're missing?]_'

Ron laughed weakly, "I don't know, but right now I'm missing my bed. I don't know how you can do it, staying up at all hours of the night. What do you do all night, anyway? There's no way you can really be reading the entire time?"

Harry recoiled slightly, as though embarrassed, then smiled with a bit of color to his cheeks, "I run around mostly!" He twirled his wand in human hands as they walked off to return to the dorms, "Don't really know why, just... gotta run around sometimes, you know? I know I'm not supposed to, but I mostly go around in the Forbidden Forest, and always to the same spots. Don't really know what I'm looking for, though."

Ron hrrm'd almost disbelievingly, "You better not be getting territorial on me, Harry, 'cause I'm not sure how I'd like to hear news like that."

Harry didn't say anything but remained thoughtful, could that be what it was? Was he becoming territorial? He'd heard about territorial creatures, usually in reference to what started off their rampages or made them dangerous in whatever way. He didn't want to become a danger because he was 'Territorial', but if he was circling Hogwarts that would mean that Hogwarts was his territory, right? And being 'territorial' usually meant one was protecting one's territory, and it wasn't a very far stretch to say that Harry would give anything to protect Hogwarts and anyone in it.

"Eh, Harry?" Harry snapped his attention back on Ron, "We need to go up." Ron pointed up the pipe that served as the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets; Harry had taken them this far out of habit, but the last bit required more conscious effort.

"Oh, right. There it is, come on grab on, I'll steer." Harry and Ron both grabbed on to his Firebolt, draping the Invisibility Cloak over themselves, and it carried them up through the well-cleaned pipe, out of the Parseltongue-sealed opening, and into the unused bathroom. Harry transformed into Crookshanks and Ron took their things up to their room, Harry following along as though nothing were wrong, intimidating Mrs. Norris whenever the opportunity arose.

* * *

><p>Ron grumbled lightly at the breakfast table, "Stupid Scabbers, running off like that, hasn't had his tonic in weeks, probably dead by now. I wouldn't be surprised."<p>

Hermione gave him a sidelong glance from a few places down the table, where she was surrounded by books rather than food, "Ron I figured you'd be taking Scabbers' loss a bit harder than that..."

Ron grunted, "'m too angry t' be glum..."

Harry smirked, "Don't you mean tired?"

"That too." Ron played idly with his waffles a moment before sighing, "No more late nights, I don't think I can take any more." There was a snort, but everyone wisely ignored Hermione, who was likely pulling nights almost as long as Harry's, and was likely just as grumpy as Ron.

Harry smiled, "Well the team has a practice today, if you want to stick around 'till after you can take the Firebolt for a ride, I bet that'd wake you up, right?"

Ron's eyes lit up, "Really? You bet!"

Later, at the Gryffindor team practice it seemed as though no one could take their eyes off of the Firebolt, even Madam Hooch was misty-eyed and distant, mumbling to herself when she'd touched it at the start of exercises.

To Harry the experience of flying on the Firebolt was almost as good as flying without any help at all. The broom responded to his lightest touch and practically vibrated with speed and power that he'd never felt from a broom before. If it failed at all it was in that Harry just wasn't as impressed as he was before he'd learned that he could fly on his own.

"Harry! I'm letting the Snitch out!"

Harry turned so he could see it and waited a moment to give it a head start, then zoomed off to its place by George Weasley's head; said boy seemed mildly alarmed when Harry blasted straight for him, but cheered rather loudly once he figured out what was what.

Snitch in hand Harry felt a jolt of playfulness; being cramped up indoors over the last few months hadn't done him any good and he was ready to blow off some steam. He released the little golden ball with wings and hovered serenely for a moment or so before blasting toward Oliver Wood himself, who had the presence of mind to move out of the way as Harry chased the Snitch from behind him, through the center hoop and down toward the ground, where both Snitch and Seeker snapped an easy ninety-degree turn before Harry, almost lazily, grabbed it somewhere near midfield. He then released it and chased it a bit more, this time batting it around playfully, to Wood's consternation.

"He's just playing with it now; it can't shake him so long as he's got the Firebolt, see?" Fred rose up beside Wood, batting away a Bludger in the process.

"I sure hope he doesn't decide to do that during the match!"

Fred chuckled, "Don't worry, I think he's just happy to be out again. Ron told us Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore've had him under close watch since whatever happened during the hols."

Wood's eyes gleaned with understanding at the mention of Madam Pomfrey. "I see. Well we'd best leave it to Harry, then. Everyone else back to work!"

Unfortunately the Firebolt was so mesmerizing that he had quite a time getting anyone to pay any attention to the rest of practice, that is until George was nearly knocked off his broom by one of Fred's Bludgers and Wood berated them all for having heir heads in the clouds.

"Aw why're you so worried, anyway? We're undefeated already, and with Harry on _that_, how can we lose?"

Wood's eyes flashed, "Never assume it's in the bag! _Especially_ when it's looking good! We need to have Constant Vigilance or else we'll lose our edge and be left behind!"

Somewhere in the foyer of a house so strongly warded against attacking and scrying magics that even the Gods would have trouble getting in unnoticed, a man with half a nose and one gigantic, madly spinning eye suddenly sneezed, grabbing his odd eye to keep it from popping out. He sniffed with puzzlement before his justifiable paranoia won out and he decided to start brewing a large number of highly-dangerous potions to determine if someone was attacking him with some sort of disease spell. (1)

Eventually Wood called an end to practice and Harry beckoned Ron out to the field to ride the Firebolt, which he did with enthusiasm.

After a while things wound down and Harry and Ron decided it was time to go, largely ignoring Madam Hooch's shouting about allowing her to fall asleep.

As they were walking along Harry spotted Crookshanks watching them from the gloom, though he didn't feel it important enough to care very much.

* * *

><p>The Firebolt, almost surprisingly, was as famous in the Great Hall as it had been on the Quidditch pitch. And although the rest of the team were happy to bask in the reflected limelight, Harry himself just found it annoying; he was famous enough already, he didn't need to be carrying around some kind of idol!<p>

Everybody from every house but Slytherin wanted to touch it, at least once, and its glory even hit Percy, snub-nosed git that he was, who placed a somewhat foolhardy wager on the game. "I haven't _got_ ten galleons!" He'd whispered to Harry, just before he went off to his girlfriend as a much more unwanted visitor came about.

"Sure you can handle that broom, Potter?"

Harry looked Malfoy curiously in the eye, "Sure can, it's a pretty good broom."

Malfoy chuckled derisively, "Shame it hasn't got airbags on it in case you run it into another Dementor."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Too bad yours hasn't got an extra arm attached to it, then it could catch the Snitch for you. Or maybe a shield to keep you alive next time you see a Hippogriff, though at the rate you're going I fear a Flobberworm might be too much for you without Hagrid to pull you away."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes as the Gryffindors laughed, "Careful Potter, your teeth are showing."

Harry smiled, "My teeth _often_ show when I smile."

For a moment Harry felt as though Malfoy might jump him, but instead he stuck up his nose and turned back to the Slytherin table, where the whole table started discussing with the boy about the Firebolt.

Ron and Hermione didn't cheer with the others, instead giving Harry concerned glances, which Harry either didn't notice or didn't comment on.

* * *

><p>The next day the Gryffindors had a match against Ravenclaw.<p>

To be honest it was a disappointment, being over and done within forty seconds of Harry spotting the Snitch. The opposing Seeker did her best to delay, distract and divert him, but there was no way he could take his eyes off the glittering Snitch once he'd seen it; when Cho physically got herself between him and the Snitch he simply flipped over upside down and went under her, never taking his eyes off that glitter of gold.

Harry was just pulling his fingers around the Snitch when a commotion arose at the opposite end of the field. Still holding the Snitch Harry rose curiously a few feet in the air to get a better look at the tall, black-robed figures ambling towards the field.

There was fear about but overall no one seemed to be doing much about it. A few were running away, of course, but for the most part everyone seemed stunned and confused.

Including, apparently, Madam Hooch, who seemed to not have noticed that Harry had caught the Snitch. So he flew down to her and showed it to her.

"Oh! Right." She blew the whistle and the game was called for Gryffindor.

He considered doing something about the Dementors, they _were_ starting to cause something of a panic, but he saw that Professor Lupin was already on the case; besides, the rest of the team was far more interested in celebrating their victory, so it was largely decided for him. And by the time Professor Lupin revealed a set of very disappointed students, Harry was already being carried away.

* * *

><p>Later in the night Harry's Firebolt had a place of honor in the Gryffindor House festivities; it was as though they'd already won the House Cup. There were streamers, banners, and a large variety of drinks and snacks that Harry didn't recognize, many of which the Twins had shown up with at some point.<p>

"I'll bet Crookshanks got to him at some point. He still sneaks around you know. Hope it was at least a quick, painless death. Still, he used to really like these Fudge Flies."

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend, "Ron it's been weeks, can't you let it go? Or at least enjoy yourself for a bit?"

Ron munched some sort of sweet, but largely didn't break his fuming. He seemed slightly flinchy, but not jovial.

Forgetting Ron, Harry glanced at Hermione, the poor girl had her head buried so deep in a large book that he was afraid it might get lost inside. Overall she wasn't doing well, her whole body was slightly twitchy and her foot was bouncing against the ground.

"If you don't calm down it's all going to go in one ear and out the other. At least have some chocolate frogs."

Hermione groaned, "Maybe you're right, Harry. I suppose I can afford a few frogs and a Butterbeer." she suddenly frowned in confusion, "Where'd all this come from, anyway?" Harry shrugged.

"Dunno. I'm gonna go to bed, though. Ron could you take the Firebolt up when you get done?" Ron grunted and Harry took it as a 'yes'; Hermione grumbled something about him not needing sleep but Harry ignored it. He'd been on something of a roller coaster all day, and between blowing up at Malfoy, carrying around the Firebolt and finally winning the Quidditch game... well, he figured it wouldn't be a crime if he actually went to bed on time for once. His nice, warm, self-heating bed.

He was asleep almost instantly, and seemingly just as quickly had started to dream.

Perhaps unsurprisingly he was flying freely above a forest, or jungle really. He's spent so much time daydreaming about it that he wasn't surprised to see the trees, taller than Hogwarts and some seemingly almost as wide.

He wandered aimlessly for a time, not really going anywhere and sniffing this, chewing that, getting stung by various things as he went. He even playfully challenged a few snakes to fights, winning each time, even against that Basilisk that managed to Disable him somehow; all he'd had to do was use Gryffindor's sword to gouge its eyes out. Of course he should have been dead, but it was his dream and he could mangle the truth however he wanted.

Eventually he ran across some sort of stone ruins and, curious as always, he floated lazily inside.

From the outside it looked like some kind of stylized pyramid, and from the inside he got the impression that it was a very important place, though looking at the pictographs on the walls didn't tell him exactly why.

So he kept going, further and further, deeper until he was sure he was probably underground, though light still managed to shine from gold reflectors to keep the way lit enough for his eyes to see.

Finally he came to a room with one door, guarded by some sort of Hagrid-sized Golem with a mountain for a head.

Just just as he was about to start pestering the thing to let him pass, he heard something, followed by a loud roar that woke him from his slumber.

His eyes snapped groggily open and he heard shuffling feet as Ron panicked in his bed.

"What's going on?" Seamus Finnigan, another boy who shared the room asked.

Harry pulled his hangings back to look at Ron, who was white and shaking, "Black! Sirius Black was here! And he was holding a knife!"

Harry immediately snapped his head in the direction of the retreating footsteps, sensing for a moment a single panicked presence before it was drowned out by the school's magic.

Ron steamed for a bit at one of the other boys, "I'm telling you it wasn't a dream! Look at the curtains!"

Harry decided to add his bit, "I heard footsteps, someone running."

"See? Harry agrees!"

Before anything more could be said Harry suddenly stood, "C'mon, let's go."

Dean Thomas was aghast, "After him? Are you mad?"

Ron snorted, "He means to get Professor McGonagall, let's go."

The next few minutes were something of a blur for Harry; between Ron's fright and his own dream, left with his own growing sense of feeling trapped... well, he just didn't have any mind left for anyone's disbelief or Sir Cadogan's stupidity. Harry was already sitting when Hermione found him, looking worried.

"Oh Harry, are you alright?"

Harry gave her a confused look, then took a thoughtful one, "I was having a dream..."

Hermione gave him an odd look, "Sirius Black was five feet from you and you're worried about a dream?"

Harry screwed up his eyes, for a moment thinking he ought to deny the whole thing, "Yeah. I think it was important somehow."

Hermione's eyes flashed, curiosity ignited, "What was it about?"

Harry struggled to remember, "It was a jungle..." Hermione kept her mouth shut, urging him on, "And there was a temple, I think. Looked a bit like an odd pyramid with the top cut off... And there were a lot of bugs, I got bit a lot. Oh! And I fought a Basilisk!"

Harry noticed someone, not knowing who, staring at him, but he only shrugged as Hermione looked thoughtful.

"Well other than the Basilisk... I'll have to look it up to be sure, but I think you may be right, Harry." She scampered off to her room and Ron gave her a queer look before going on, recounting his experience to the crowd.

* * *

><p>Harry didn't see Hermione again until the next day, but by that time news of Ron's encounter had already spread through the whole school. Ron seemed quite happy with the attention he was getting, and was stopping every few minutes for most of the day, just to tell the story over and over.<p>

"So then I yelled and he _scampered!_" He finished to a pair of girls, who giggled and walked away as Ron turned to Harry with a concerned look, "Why, though? He killed a bunch of people in the middle of a street, right? Why'd he run?"

Harry had hardly been listening and only answered with a shrug when Hermione showed up carrying a small stack of books, "Hey Harry, got a minute?"

Harry nodded mutely as Hermione handed him a book, passing another to Ron and opening a third, turning pages furiously until she held it up for Harry to see, "Does that look like it?"

Harry gave the picture a glance; it was a ground shot of what Harry would have called a pyramid with the top cut off, stairs leading up the center up to a covered platform at the top. "Yeah, a lot like that. 'Cept there were more trees."

Ron looked at it strangely before Hermione pulled it away, "Meso-American architecture largely consisted of simple stone houses and pyramid-like temples, which were often used for sacrifices to their various gods." She looked at Harry from over the book, "They existed from Central America to parts of Brazil, including the Amazon Jungle..."

Ron threw up his hands, "Could one of you tell me what this is all about? What's up with the squashed pyramids?"

Harry quickly said, "I had a dream, Hermione's helping figure it out."

Hermione nodded, "Anyway the Amazon is _Huge!_ And dangerous, too. After hundreds of years it's still mostly unexplored, even by wizardkind. Just about _Anything_ could be in there!"

Ron rolled his eyes, "And I s'pose you mean to find out, eh?"

Harry returned Ron's gesture as Hermione huffed, "She means, Ron, that there could be anything there, like little pink cats, persay."

Ron's eyes widened, "You mean..." Harry nodded meaningfully and Ron dropped his voice, "Is it in your big book thing?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno, haven't gotten there yet. I'll look tonight."

Hermione huffed, "Harry, open yours now; go to about page thirty."

Harry did and stopped at a page with the title "Dangers of Exploration", it had a large number of colorful pictures of equally colorful bugs, all moving, and even a few colorful frogs that seemed to be croaking silently.

Hermione explained, "The Amazon is dangerous just to _go_ to; practically everything in it, animal _or_ plant, can kill you. The water's rancid, mosquitoes carry all sorts of disease, nearly everything's poisonous, it's wicked hot, the water's full of electric eels and flesh-eating piranhas that'll strip your bones bare in minutes, and the rainy season lasts nearly half the year!" Ron had a puzzled, sort of disgruntled look, "But you know, that's not all... Ron, can you go to page eighty?"

Ron almost jumped at the sudden shift of focus, but stumbled a moment to do as told.

Hermione pointed, "See that?" She pointed at an odd little tree with fist-sized fruits, "That's a Cacao tree, it _also_ comes from the Amazon. Its seeds make chocolate."

Now Ron was _really_ confused, "What's chocolate got to do with anything?"

Almost as though in response Hermione gave Harry a sidelong glance, "Chocolate is one of very few antidotes to a Dementor's cold... and cats are normally deathly allergic to it, but Harry isn't."

Harry shrugged, "Well if they come from the same place..."

"But what about your reaction to the Dementors? You know, it almost seems rather Instinctive."

Harry thought that over as Ron looked at him oddly; she was right, it was instinctive, and the wost part was that the harder he fought it the more impossible it became... "I don't think I can fight it."

Ron was confused by what, to him, seemed an unprompted statement, "What? Fight what? The Dementors?"

Harry shook his head 'no', "When I see a Dementor... I have to hit it, hard as I can. I've been practicing, trying to learn _not_ to with Professor Lupin, but all I've gotten from it is stronger. I've broken from him when he tried to hold me back a few times."

Ron's eyes widened, "You _broke away_ from him?"

Hermione seemed just as shocked, but Harry only shrugged, "Yeah." His mind raced a bit, "But I've got an idea... I need to practice..."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Look, all I wanna know is, why, exactly, are we standing around talking about all this in the middle of the hall?" Harry's only answer was a distracted "Hmm.", but Hermione at least looked embarrassed before gathering up her books.

"Sorry about that. Look, I've got to go, talk to you two later." She turned and walked off at a quick pace, apparently having somewhere to be. Harry looked at Ron, shrugged, and resumed their previous route, Ron following after.(2)

* * *

><p>Sirius Black's second infiltration had gotten all over the school rather quickly; Sir Cadogan had been fired and returned to his previous place, while the Fat Lady had been coaxed to return with a pair of nasty-looking security trolls, who constantly roamed the halls speaking in grunts, comparing the sizes of their clubs and giving the whole place a stench that had Mr. Filch stalking about and grumbling, a nastier-than-usual expression on his face.<p>

Neville, who as it turned out was largely responsible for Black's getting into Gryffindor Tower in the first place, was being punished rather nastily. He was all-but locked out of the tower, having to stand around and wait to be let inside, his Hogsmeade privileges had been revoked and, at lunch one day, his grandmother had sent him possibly the worst punishment of all: a Howler.

Of course things were going better for Harry, who had found with a bit of practice that he could form a mostly-complete Patronus without any Dementors about; he'd brought his thoughts up with Professor Lupin and the man agreed that he would, at their next session, try Harry's idea.

Ron, however, seemed rather adamant about getting Harry out of the castle, "What's that map for, anyway, if you don't use it?"

Harry sighed, "Fine, but I'm not going to the sweets shop."

"What? Why?" Harry only gave Ron a sidelong look, not really wanting to explain.

"Look, just come wait for me by that haunted place you were going on about, I'll come see you there, alright?"

Ron looked disgruntled, "The Shrieking Shack? Alright, but why there?"

Harry shrugged, "Way's I figure it, there'll be fewer people wanting to stand around by it, if it's so haunted."

"Oh... good idea."

Hermione, on the other hand, didn't think it was such a good idea, and seemed keen on keeping him from going, somehow convinced that it wouldn't go well. Still, as he intended to stay out of sight and away from people, Harry couldn't see the harm in it.

Unless, of course, he managed to spot a Dementor. Which was why he intended to be back long before dark fell. No sense in getting himself killed punching them out, especially before he'd learned to properly deal with them. _THEN_ he'd go around dealing with them, but not before.

After discussing with the twins what he wanted, and going over the map a bit, they apparently felt that the best way for him to get out of the castle was to go through a passage at the back of some sort of statue of a fat witch with a large bum. Unfortunately, once they told him where the other end came out of Harry flat-out refused to take it, instead deciding on a path that the Twins had never tried before, largely because the Whomping Willow, a large tree more prone to smacking you broken than to giving you shade was growing right over top of it. The Twins were just a bit alarmed at the seriousness with which Harry spoke of trying it, but they were able to tell him the old stories of how the tree worked.

So there he stood, looking rather a lot like Crookshanks and preparing himself to try it. He knew Crookshanks could do it, as he'd seen the cat do it before, but this would be Harry's first time and he really wasn't keen on it.

Without thinking he darted forward and jabbed the knot at the tree's base, freezing it in place before it could even hardly react to his presence. When he realized this he smirked, as it always took Crookshanks a bit longer to get by the tree. Still, it wouldn't stay frozen forever and Harry decided to get into the passageway as quickly as possible, darting inside just before the tree could smack at him from above.

Once in the passage he decided to drop his transformation and was himself once more; as there was no one to see he decided that the would fly to the other end rather than walk.

That flight, while nice was hardly satisfying, being over in mere moments as he came across an old wooden door, at which he stopped to stare for a moment.

Thinking that since he was going to the Shrieking Shack there would be a lot of ghosts about, Harry decided to take the most inconspicuous form he could think of. Of course he didn't realize that 'inconspicuous' to _him_ would still stand out, but he generally tried not to think too hard about things anyway.

Inside the Shrieking Shack the first Ghost in years was coming for a visit, phasing slowly through the floor, and eying the new room more with mirth than caution. Seeing no one, it decided to pop out into the air, two disembodied hands floating out to the sides as it stuck its now entirely-too-large tongue out, "Haunta-Haunter!"

Seeing no one react to his entrance, the beach-ball-sized, spiky black blob giggled to itself and floated about for a bit, randomly exploring to see just where it was.

The place it'd popped out in was run down, that was for certain. Spider-webs were everywhere, and the dust was only as disturbed as whatever animals frequented the place would allow it to be. Indeed, other than that odd black dog that seemed strangely frightened of him, Harry found nothing in the old house at all.

Looking through a window, however, he saw Ron standing about, having trouble with Malfoy, and Harry decided that a bit of fun was in order.

"-bet this place'd be loads better than that hovel you live in now, wouldn't it? Even ghosts and all." Ron was red in the face and appeared to be close to lunging at the blonde, right up until his face suddenly went white, seeing something just behind his nemesis. "What's wrong, Weasley? Figure I'm right?" Crabbe and Goyle sniggered maliciously, but Ron only pointed a shaky figure over Malfoy's shoulder, eyes too wide and body too stiff to even consider running. Malfoy frowned out a sort of sneer, "Please, that's the oldest trick." Ron fell over backwards, still pointing and looking horrified, finally prompting Malfoy to turn around.

He hardly had the chance to get a look at what was sitting there before his face met with the biggest, wettest tongue he'd ever seen, something that sent the distinct cold of a ghost through his entire body, causing him to lock up and nearly fall over on top of Ron. Crabbe and Goyle tried to get their wands out, but before they could each was grabbed by an over-large hand to the head, and then pushed away as the ghost laughed an odd sort of giggle, obviously enjoying the looks on the three boys' faces. "_Hauntah!_" The ghost then picked up a pair of globs of mud and chased the boys off, all three of them screaming like girls and at least one of them wetting their robes.

Ron, if he'd known what was going on, might have laughed at the way his friend had chased off the Slytherins; problem was, he didn't _know_ that it was Harry that'd done it, and was just about to run off himself when the ghost planted a large hand over his head and forced him to walk, calmly, to a corner where he wouldn't be seen.

When Ron came-to, he shook his head and found himself looking into the green eyes of a very amused-looking pink cat, "Harry? What happened? Did you see that gigantic... it couldn't have been a ghost! It didn't look like a person at all!"

Harry giggled and swished his tail a couple of time, '_[That was me! I think Malfoy wet himself! Ooh wait till they figure out what I did to Crabbe and Goyle!]_' Harry giggled harder now, circling Ron a couple of times before disappearing in a flash, his place being taken over by a small bird, which flew to Ron's shoulder.

Ron, of course, stared stupidly, then disbelievingly at the little bird, "Harry, if you could become a bird that whole time, why didn't you just fly here?"

Harry tilted his head, did his best to shrug, then flitted to the top of a nearby building, which Ron took as his sign to get the tour on with.

Ron sighed, things would never be normal with Harry anymore, would they?

* * *

><p>Upon their return Ron rushed up to his dorm, just slowly enough to not be noticed, but quickly enough that Neville Longbottom gave him strange looks from beside the Fat Lady, "At least let me i-!"<p>

When he finally got to the room he shared with Harry, Neville and the other boys of their year and house he went straight to the window, which he opened without preamble, allowing a small bird to flit inside and suddenly grow to be a full-sized person.

"See? No evidence I'd ever left."

Ron gave him an eye, "What was that bit with the ghost, anyway?"

Harry shrugged, "It was the Shrieking Shack, figured a ghost'd be the best way not to get too noticed."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Yeh, great job of that, by the way. You realize you didn't look anything like a real ghost, don't you?" Harry only shrugged, "What'd you do to them, anyway?"

Harry grinned, "Well, I licked Malfoy; you know what a ghost's touch is like." Ron shivered, "And then Crabbe and Goyle..." His grin widened, then turned into a suppressed chuckle, which then devolved into an outright laugh.

"What? What'd you do to them?"

Harry looked Ron directly in the eye, grinning out, "Heart Swap." Ron still seemed confused, but managed a weak grin just the same; the name really said it all. "It's a ghost thing, I guess." Just then Neville, Dean, and Seamus came in, Neville giving Ron a hurt look.

Ron had the decency to look sheepish, "Sorry Neville, guess I was in a hurry."

"I hit my nose."

Seamus rolled his eyes, "And a brilliant show it was, watching you smack your face against the Fat Lady and having her yell at you. Then you went and backed into one of the Trolls?"

Neville looked hurt for a moment, then sighed, still looking hurt but a bit more accepting, "I sure hope that Black gets caught soon, so I can go back to getting in on my own."

Harry suddenly put his arm around the boy's shoulders, "I agree, Neville." He looked abnormally calm and serious, "I'm sure you don't like being kept out any more than I like being kept _in_. Can't wait 'till it's all over, either." He then walked tiredly over to his bed, flopped down on it and pulled the hangings up. No one dared interrupt him, Ron silently leaving the room; that change had been far too much for him, far too quickly. The other boys followed Ron's example, Neville grabbing a few things from his trunk before leaving.

* * *

><p>Professor Lupin gave the ground near the Whomping Willow an odd look, approaching toward something he'd seen there that didn't belong.<p>

Keeping a fair-enough distance from the tree to keep from getting whomped by the willow, he pointed his wand and said "_Accio Parchment!_"

His eyes went wide. Who would be using the Marauder's Map to access the passageway to the Shrieking Shack?

* * *

><p>End Chapter 6<p>

* * *

><p>(1) Yup, I just used the old sneeze-trick. XD Oliver used Constant Vigilance without me knowing he was going to do it, and when I saw it I just HAD to point out the reference that I hadn't originally intended to make.<p>

(2) If you think Harry and Hermione's conversations seem kind of jumpy and disjointed, don't worry, Ron thinks so too. He knows better than to try to get them to explain themselves, as Harry doesn't even realize that he's two steps ahead of the rest of the world, and Hermione actively stays there. Everything is pretty much there that's supposed to be, so if you still think there's something missing then it's probably something I left out on purpose.

A reviewer recently added a very good point, that being Harry's seeming intolerance for cold. I actually expected that question, and provide this answer: Harry is a Mew, but he's also a very, very _young_ Mew; he has yet to grow into the levels of power that a full-grown Mew would have. As it was he was able to hold the cold off for several months, but at that point he'd barely even started growing. I'd think that a full-grown Mew can live anywhere and do whatever it wants, even at the highest peaks of the Himalayas, but being so Young Harry is still a bit more vulnerable. When he _does_ grow up I think he'd still prefer the warmth, but he'll then be strong enough that he'll be okay with the cold as well.

Harry and Ron are both Legendaries, while Hermione is an Eevee, this is true. However, Hermione is the one having the easiest time of adapting to it; she hardly has to think about it because Eevee is already so much like a normal animal, and as she's more into planning than hitting things, an underpowered animal that can easily get around without being noticed would suit her just fine. Ron's Pokemagus is what it is because my mind figures that a Lion fits him far more than anything else I can think of, and Entei seemed the perfect match for him. Harry is a Mew because that was the original idea for the fic in the first place; I could have picked something else, probably something more suited to Canon-Harry's personality if I tried really hard, but as it's called 'Harry Mewter' Mew is the only one for him. XD

For other questions: Yes, we're ignoring the actual Pokeverse. It still exists, just isn't really very important and won't have an impact on the story. I have plans through at least fifth year, and my 'Official' Pokedex, which is based off the Sinnoh-era, lists Mew's Mega Punch at being learned at level 10. I applaud Lost MP for figuring that bit out, as I was hoping that someone would, and now you know which 'dex to look up his skills from. As for Invisibility: He has the Cloak, but otherwise is too show-offy at the moment to try for 'natural' invisibility.

I'm gonna wrap these notes up before they become too long. XD Till next week!

_Edit (11/24/2009): Replaced CFMC (Care For Magical Creatures) with the corrected COMC (Care Of Magical Creatures). Fixing single-quotes again. Removed a 'd' from 'and umprompted statement'._

_ Edit (8/7/2012): Added an 'n' to 'and', checked for missed quotations, other minor corrections._

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	7. A Fate My Own

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

* * *

><p>Chapter 7 : A Fate My Own<p>

* * *

><p>Professor Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore was often seen as a mysterious man, and he was. He also often seemed to know things that others did not, seeming to know things he shouldn't, and at times he did. But he was never questioned, because in all his years he had proven that, whether he <em>should<em> know them or not was entirely beside the point, that when he knew something he was almost always right.

And it wasn't always simply because he was smarter, either; goodness knew there were others that were smarter than he was. More clever in their various ways. No, Albus Three-Middle-Names Dumbledore was hardly any smarter than his old friend Grindelwald.

But something that he'd always had over others was a way with people. He understood them in ways most other people couldn't, and in that way could guess things about them that others wouldn't have come to. Werewolves, he'd found, had their own peculiar way of walking, talking, acting, and even thinking that showed the educated eyes just what they were. Same with Vampires. Same with untrustworthy, or even the very few _trustworthy_ ministers; Dumbledore could pick out a lie from a mile away, Ligillimency or not.

Harry was, of course, an odd duck; his behavior had changed so much and so quickly that Dumbledore had at first been alarmed. Then Harry had done what very few children his age would have, told the truth, and Dumbledore now knew what to expect of him again. Or, at least, he was learning what to expect. His new childish demeanor was mixed, sprinkled with far older, far wiser mannerisms that seemed to pop up at odd times, and though it would be hard to call Harry 'Sour' at any point, his new outlook being simply far too cheerful for that, it was clear that his new outlook was beginning to fray a bit at the edges. Dumbledore had more than once seen the trapped look in his eyes, and knew that he'd have to give him some more leeway soon lest he snap.

Of course, since Harry was no longer as human as he once had been, Dumbledore couldn't simply delve into his understanding of Human Nature to try to predict the boy anymore, and since even the Granger girl seemed stumped as to what he now was Dumbledore honestly didn't stand a chance if he tried to decipher that puzzle himself. Like the children, he'd never seen that sort of creature himself, nor even heard of it before, so rather than try to look it up himself he simply allowed the Granger girl to figure it out, something she seemed able to do faster and more effectively than nearly anyone else in the entire school.

Why, if she were allowed to the Restricted Section, there would be nearly nothing that she would be unable to do! After all, she'd brewed an apparently highly-potent Animagus potion on her own, in secret, under _his_ nose, at the age of twelve! Not to mention what was likely a Polyjuice Potion at the same time, further splitting her already frayed, distracted attention; that the school hadn't exactly been safe at the time only spoke even higher of her accomplishments, and Dumbledore had no doubt that the Muggleborn girl would make waves in the Wizarding world like few others could.

Why, if her intelligence could be leveraged properly, guided in the right direction, given the right suggestions... the Wizarding World would never again be the same.

Intelligence. There was something else that was driving Dumbledore's curiosity of late; Harry's intelligence, far from being stunted by his now no-longer-fully-human status, seemed to have been amplified exponentially. Some of his Professors had complained that the boy seemed bored in their classes, even to the point of falling asleep at more than one occasion while still showing a sharpness that was second only to the Granger girl's. Professor Snape claimed that he was still rubbish at Potions, but had admitted that the _reason_ for that lack of finesse had changed. Once, over the previous two years, Harry had simply done things wrong. Now he did everything right, but did them in a way that screwed him up, often taking one instruction or another 'Too Literally' or not waiting for the subtle visual cues that were so important in potions.

Indeed, Dumbledore more than once wondered if Harry had grown colorblind, as color cues seemed to be the biggest thing that he would miss most regularly; though he seemed adept at not keeping his cauldron at one specific temperature as even the worst of his classmates knew to, trying to turn the fire up to get something to boil more quickly or turning it down to get the boiling to stop more quickly. Indeed Patience, or a lack thereof, seemed to be his downfall.

The note before him, however, was nearly as puzzling as anything, even _everything_ else he'd done all year. It was short, simple, and had been delivered by mail.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards,_

_ I was wondering, would it be possible for me to drop Divination and take up Arithmancy? I understand it's rather late in the year and I've probably missed a bunch, but if I studied hard could I try it anyways?_

_ Sincerely, _

_ Harry Potter, Third Year Gryffindor, Boy-Who-Lived, Owner of The Firebolt, Gryffindor Team Seeker._

He chuckled under his breath, a sparkle coming to his eye. The boy knew him too well, and if he was already to the point of adding unnecessary titles... well, the future seemed to bode well. At least in Dumbledore's humble opinion.

It was such a simple thing, such an easy thing, such an unneeded thing... not to mention brave, almost bold coming from such a young student. If Dumbledore didn't know that Harry rather disliked all the attention he usually got, he'd almost worry the boy was becoming big-headed. There was plenty of time to worry about that sort of thing later, for now he was merely amused and frankly rather curious.

Still, all that could wait, as at that moment it seemed that he had a visitor.

"Ah, Professor Lupin, how may I help you?"

Remus Lupin was yet-another study in Human Behavior. The man, as he had as a boy, tended to babble endlessly at times, skipping around his thoughts so quickly that if he were anyone else the Headmaster would have been entirely lost on what was going on. This was probably why he was the only one that the Werewolf seemed to go to when he was troubled, as no one else seemed capable of picking out the important bits quite so well as Albus Dumbledore.

Besides, being the first real wizard to accept him for what he was probably earned him a place in the boy's heart that would never go away.

Lupin paced a few times, acting a bit like an agitated animal, "Professor?" He stalled for a moment, then finally asked, "Was anyone... missing a few days ago that shouldn't have been? Or been admitted to the Hospital Wing for getting too near the Whomping Willow?"

Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow, "Not that I'm aware of. All that was unusual over the last few days was when young Mr. Malfoy claimed to have been... licked, by a ghost whose description was not very ghost-like. But as it was by the Shrieking Shack no one seems to care to think much of it. Ghosts act like ghosts at times, after all."

Lupin's eyes took on a slightly less manic, yet more dubious likeness to them, "The... Shrieking Shack?" Dumbledore nodded slowly, "But... there's no _real_ ghosts there... right?"

"I'm not aware of any having moved in since you were last a student, if that's what you mean."

Lupin took to pacing again, "A ghost? But then... then... ohh that doesn't make any sense either!"

Dumbledore nodded, eyes closing for his own thoughts, "Yes, I agree. Lemon Drop?"

Lupin almost snorted with his frustration, but quickly calmed and sighed out, "No, thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded, popping one into his own mouth before leaning back, "Well, in a blatant attempt to change the subject," a twinkle came to his eye, "I received a letter only minutes ago. Would you like to see it?"

Lupin was not, generally, curious about what crossed other peoples' desks; if it wasn't his, he didn't care. But when the elder Professor asked that question, it was specifically designed to get his curiosity up, "Eh... sure. Why?"

Dumbledore passed him the letter with a smile, "Read and see."

Lupin did so, and when he was finished he seemed puzzled by something, "'Owner of The Firebolt?'"

Dumbledore chuckled, "Inspired, I believe, by his classmates. It seems appropriate judging by their behavior of late."

Lupin nodded mutely, pushing the letter back toward the Headmaster, a quietly curious look on his face, "Will you...?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes in thought, "That depends. What do _you_ think? Is he really up to it?"

Lupin almost cut himself short, "Well... Harry... seems to be a lot smarter than he lets on. And it's obvious that neither he nor his friends seem satisfied with Divination, they only complain about Potions with Severus more. He probably got the idea from that Granger girl, she seems to speak rather glowingly about it anytime I hear it from her. I don't think Harry knows what he'd be getting into, really."

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled, "Well then, perhaps it would be best if we... 'tested' him first, to see if he's really 'up to it'. I'll have to speak with Minerva first, of course." He smiled as he noticed something, "In fact, I believe that's her now. Good evening Minerva."

She eyed his desk, "So you got one too, have you?"

Dumbledore nodded, "How many titles did he give you?"

McGonagall blinked at the combined looks of her Headmaster and former student, then sighed, pulling the parchment from where she'd kept it, "Professor McGonagall, Professor of Transfigurations, Head of Gryffindor House, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She sniffed haughtily at the amused looks in the eyes of the other Professors, "I should have known you'd find it... entertaining. I'm afraid I'll have to speak with him about manners, but for now."

Dumbledore nodded quietly, a smile forming as he drew up a chair, "Come, sit and we'll discuss it. Unless you're entirely against the idea?"

McGonagall eyed the chair, "And you're not, then?" As the Headmaster's behest, she sat, "Then what is there to discuss?"

"Arrangements, of course. Can't very well simply have him start attending classes, can we? He claims to be ready for the make-up work, I say we let him try it."

"The year's nearly over, Albus, he'd never make it in time."

Lupin stood, "If it's alright, I don't think I'll be of any use to you at this point, so I think I'll go back to my office."

A smile and a sparkle made him stall for a moment, "Actually, could you fetch Professor Vector for us? I believe we may be needing her assistance in this. Tell her I'm expecting her."

Lupin nodded mutely and turned to leave, heading to find yet another Professor. As he did, he couldn't help but to feel that Professor Dumbledore seemed to be taking things just a bit too far. After all, Harry had obviously been thinking of the 'easiest' classes when he'd chosen them last year, why would he suddenly think he was ready for the hardest course the school had to offer?

* * *

><p>Harry didn't want to admit it, since the twins had taken such a large gamble in entrusting him with it, but he'd lost the map. He couldn't rightly remember where or exactly when he'd lost it, but it'd been at some point when he was heading off for Hogsmeade.<p>

Probably by the Whomping Willow, when he'd set to checking to see if he'd gotten all the instructions for entering the hidden passage correct.

Harry honestly didn't care too much, as he'd already memorized the entire thing down to every last detail, courtesy his 'at times Photographic' memory, and frankly he trusted his own senses better than the itsy-bitsy dots on that map.

Really, he was more worried about whether he'd deactivated it or not. In the wrong hands that thing could be quite dangerous indeed. Unfortunately, unless he found it himself there wasn't much that could be done about it now. And chances were that it was now long-gone; he could, at best, hope that one of the better Professors, or more responsible students would have found it. Perhaps it was deactivated if left out too long and of no real value to anyone who didn't know the password.

Harry didn't think much of that, given his luck, but unless he saw it somewhere along the route to the Whomping Willow there was little he could do about it. And unfortunately, it was absent at the base of the tree, so there was little hope of finding it now.

Of course he had other things to think about, so he spared the map no other thought for the moment. Rather, he turned them to his classes; if he hadn't insulted them too much, perhaps Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall would allow him to change his classes as he'd asked. He'd already borrowed Hermione's Arithmancy text for some light reading when she assured him she didn't need it, and he found it nearly as fascinating as she did; the idea of _writing_ a spell rather than using a wand and hoping you got all the motions exactly right... well, it seemed like it might help for when he didn't have his wand with him, at least.

Of course he recognized that, while potentially far more powerful than wand-cast spells, Arithmancy relied on having loads of extra time to come up with all the things necessary, especially the severe amount of calculating involved and that fact that it relied on steady quill, clean parchment, and flat table, none of which would be available in a fight.

However, he valued the idea so much that he intended to pursue the idea on his own if not for the classes, though happily it turned out that he wouldn't need to; Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Vector all agreed on giving him the chance to prove himself capable of not only succeeding in the class, but of catching up with a now nearly completed year. He had a veritable mountain of assignments, but he felt confident in his ability to catch up. Only the fact that he'd be sharing a book with Hermione gave him any hope for it, and lately she was giving him all sorts of rules for it, such as "Don't leave this room until I come for it, I want you studying that whole time alright?" and "Give it back right at breakfast, alright?" and even "And for Merlin's sake, don't _chew_ on it! I want it in one piece when I get it back!"

Personally Harry thought she was being unfair; he'd only chewed on one of her quills _once_! Sure, most of his own books and quills had been chewed on more thoroughly, but it wasn't like he was teething or anything! He just chewed on things... well, because he could. And it gave his body release for some of the tension it had, while still allowing him to more-or-less sit still.

And that was the _real_ challenge: sitting still long enough to get all that studying done. With how increasingly shut-in he was feeling, his body just wanted to twitch violently and fly away as fast as it could for much of the day, and Divinations class wasn't helping. Half the time the room itself made him jumpier than usual, and only the thought that he might be leaving it soon helped Harry get through the Crystal Ball Gazing portion of the class. (First day he'd seen himself, in animal form, floating in front of a massive glowing-red boulder as Professor Dumbledore stood nearby.)

Ron, of course, was aghast when Harry'd told him of his plan, "But, but you won't be able to help me with my assignments anymore!"

Harry grinned wanly, "That's alright, Ron. I think you can make it up on your own, you don't need me for that."

"But still, Hermione won't help me either."

"I'm pretty sure she's leaving soon, as well."

"But, but I'll be alone with Professor Trelawney! You know I don't like being around her!"

"I'm sorry Ron, but I can't go there anymore if I can help it. That room gives me headaches, you know that."

Ron sighed in defeat, "Yeah. I'm gonna miss ya', mate."

Harry grinned, "You act as though I'm leaving Hogwarts!"

Ron gave him a hurt, slightly-haughty look, "But _are_ you? You complain enough about wanting out, I'd hoped going to Hogsmeade would help but you've only gotten _worse_!"

Cringing at the truth of the statement, Harry shook his head, "I'm not going, Hogwarts is too important. It's just..."

"I know, mate, I feel the same way. After they catch Black I'm gonna run around right there with yeh."

He shook his head, grinning, "You sure you can keep up? I'm pretty fast you know."

A competitive gleam entered Ron's eye, "You bet I can. Even if it kills me."

"Honestly, can't you two control yourselves at _all_?" Hermione came into the common room in a slight huff, looking as harried and harassed as ever; she walked over and practically dropped a book on the table in front of Harry, it was nearly a foot thick and must have been at least a couple of decades old. "Here, I'll need it back in an hour but I'll let you have it again tonight."

Ron goggled helplessly at the book, shaking a little when he reached out a hand to touch it, "Blimey Harry, is that _it?_"

Nodding, Harry opened the book, "Hermione's Arithmancy text; it's pretty interesting, I've gone through half of it already I just need to do the assignments. Thanks Hermione, I'll get one of my own next year, I promise."

Hermione glowed for a moment, "It's no problem Harry, I'm looking forward to having you in class. Professor Vector is wonderful!"

Ron snorted, "You love _any_ Professor that gives you loads of homework."

"Hush you." She then started turning around, "I'll see you two in an hour-abouts, alright?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Ron waved her off and she huffed away, quickly finding some of her other books before burying herself in them, becoming lost behind the mountain of self-imposed work. "How's she do it, anyway? The work is one thing, but most of her classes overlap, it's just not right!" Ron waited for a moment before looking at Harry for an explanation to why he hadn't responded, but Harry had his face in the book and was writing things down at a furious pace, eyes darting every which way. "Oh come on! I may as well have wandered into the Ravenclaw tower!" He got up and stalked off to bug his brothers, who seemed keen on some sort of parchment that was likely to do with a joke of some sort.

* * *

><p>Oliver Wood did not particularly take to Harry's recent studiousness; in fact, he seemed to feel that if Harry had all that extra time to study, he should be spending it practicing Quidditch. It didn't seem to matter that he, as Seeker, had only one job to worry about; find the Snitch. Time spent in countless hours of practice was, to him, time much better spent than in class or in talking with one-another or, indeed, even sleeping. Wood was pushing the team so hard that, while Neville Longbottom was near tears just with his class-load, Harry was near to becoming cross with his team captain; only the fact that he didn't need much sleep kept him from snapping at the older boy.<p>

On the bright side Malfoy seemed to be improving in Care of Magical Creatures; he wasn't sure if he was aware that the creatures had dubbed him 'The Stupidest Human To Still Live', but the fact that nearly every creature acted as haughty and superior to him as he did to them seemed to take some of the wind from his sail, at least. Hagrid, on the other hand, seemed to be picking up the pace quite a bit, going with the general flow of things in assigning more and more homework as exams drew near.

The days started leading up to the much anticipated game between Gryffindor and Slytherin; Slytherin was down by thirty points, so in the end it really all came down to which team found the Snitch. No one, throughout the entire school, had any doubt as to which boy would do so other than Malfoy himself, who still thought that he stood a chance. Not that the other Slytherins were slow in attempting to _give_ him a chance, with all of the tricks, traps, and curses that'd been lobbed at Harry anonymously and often in plain sight of at least three other people. After the first few trip-wires Wood had decided to keep an envoy of other people around Harry at all times, and the fact that Harry usually had his face in that Arithmancy book seemed to make the older boy even more nervous, as he was sure that Harry was becoming unaware of his surroundings and thus needed bodyguards.

As Gryffindor hadn't held the House Cup in a wide number of years now, and only Slytherin seemed to not be backing them in trying to win it this year, the enmity between the two houses seemed to be coming to a head in the last few days of the match, to the point that random fights were breaking out between them resulting in trips to the medical wing.

Finally the day came, and Wood had his team rounded up to give them one last speech, "Alright team! We're close, really close! We can't let it slip away again this time! We just _can't!_ We've worked too hard, fought too much, nearly _lost_ too much! We've got to fight like we've never fought before! And Harry, you know the plan right? _Don't catch the Snitch unless we're no more than twenty points down!_ Got it, right? No more than twenty points down! Above that and you better catch it right off, got it?" Harry nodded his head mutely, not wanting to rile his team captain up more than he already was; the boy apparently didn't care that more than a hundred points separated the two teams in the running, still wanting to make a good showing at the end of the day. Satisfied, Wood turned a golden smile upon his team in general, "All right then! Let's get out there and show them what Gryffindor is really made of!" Wood roared and everyone marched onto the field.

It was the dirtiest game Harry had ever played in; Slytherin had seemingly gone more for size than skill, and speed least of all. Malfoy was easily the smallest of them all, and the entire Slytherin team had started the game with nasty glares at the Gryffindor team. There was no doubt that the game would, in all, be hard-fought.

But, despite that nearly every Gryffindor player came out of the game bloody and beaten, with fouls nearly every forty seconds, the entire game had been over from the moment it started. Gryffindor was simply the better team overall, and with Harry on the Firebolt it was so easy as to be silly. He'd seen the Snitch only feet from Malfoy and, thinking fast, locked eyes with the boy. Almost as predicted he'd panicked, thinking Harry was after _him_, probably in retaliation for the severe physical beating that was going on around them, and by the time Harry veered away towards his _actual_ target it was too late for Malfoy to actually do anything about it. Though the finality of it didn't stop a pair of Bludgers from trying to take Harry's arms off, or one of the Slytherins to actually try ramming into him to keep him from the Snitch.

Harry had dodged the Bludgers and instinctively rolled beneath the burly blockhead that'd tried to ram him, and there was nothing to stop him from the Snitch...

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, "Snitch to Gryffindor!" The entire school was screaming as the whole of his team piled on top of Harry, Dumbledore bearing the House Cup and smiling down directly at the new champions.

Harry was happy, he really was. But somehow, he just wasn't bursting at the seams as everyone else seemed to be doing.

Indeed, he felt rather disconnected from it all; it was almost as though... he didn't care for Quidditch anymore.

* * *

><p>The celebrations were nice and all, but Harry just didn't feel like celebrating as much as his house-mates did. Not that they had much time for it, what with exams coming just 'round the corner. Fred and George were the most striking change of all, no longer cracking jokes as they buckled down for their Ordinary Wizarding Levels tests, while Percy kept sniping at whichever person made the most noise as he prepared for his Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. This was about the time when Neville Longbottom finally <em>did<em> break into tears and everyone found that Hermione wasn't far separate from either him or Percy Weasley, both seeming in tears at times as well as sniping at anyone that made even a bit of noise.

In fact, although she expressed being happy in Harry's interest in Arithmancy, she seemed especially snippy at his lack of a need for sleep, largely because she seemed to be getting so little of it herself and was slowly being worn to the point of breaking. Ron was still stressing over the overlaps in Hermione's schedule, and perhaps worst of all was the fact that Harry now had next to no time for Dementor training.

'After the exams, he said. There may not be anything _left_ of us all after the exams! Hermione most of all, wish she'd just drop more than just Divinations. Really, what's so fascinating about Muggle Studies that she has to read a-hundred and thirty pages in two days for? Gave me a chance to almost get caught up with her in Arithmancy, but still!'

* * *

><p>Although Harry was entirely sure that he would be transferring out of it, he was still expected to arrive to and take the exam for Divination, which finally had him sitting at a table across from Professor Trelawney, who asked him to sit.<p>

"Now then, look into the orb, what do you see?"

Harry looked, and his eyes widened, "Scabbers! Wow, he looks horrible. How's he been getting on all this time?"

Trelawney apparently wasn't prepared for such a positive response, but as a professional near-fraud she rolled with the punches, "Tell me, this 'Scabbers', is he still whole?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, looks a fright, though. Wonder why? Hmm? Oh Ron's not gonna like that."

Trelawney was perplexed, but as usual managed not to show it, "What do you see now?"

"Sirius Black. Hmm, I'd better get Ron so we can get Scabbers."

Again Harry had changed the subject too quickly, "Why do you need to find this Scabbers?"

"Because it showed us finding him. Besides, he's important to the future."

Trelawney chewed on this for a bit, "Tell me, before you go, can you give a prediction for _me_?"

Harry gave her an odd look, shrugged, and started looking in the ball, staring for a moment before seeming to come to a decision, "You're going to catch cold this summer, June I think. You'll sneeze an awful lot and have to leave your tower for fresh air." He smiled wistfully at that, "Imagine that. Oh! And you're about to have a real prophecy. Good luck with that!"

"_TONIGHT! IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT!_"

Harry sighed, listening to the prophecy before being allowed to leave, whence he went to find Ron. They needed to find Scabbers; the crystal ball had shown him snooping around Hagrid's hut. And then it had shown him turning into a fat, balding human. That had to be important.

"C'mon, let's go see Hagrid."

"What? Why?"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe he'll tell us how our tests with the Hippogriffs went. Besides..." Harry looked left and right, finally speaking in hushed tones despite the empty hallway, "I think he deserves to know."

Ron's eyes widened, "What? Harry you can't be serious!"

Harry shrugged, "And why not? He _IS_ the school's expert on magical creatures, right?"

"Yeah but still, he's not very good at keeping secrets."

"I think he can keep this one. Besides, it'll give us a reason to come see him from time to time."

"Harry we shouldn't even be outside! Hagrid wouldn't even want us there!"

Harry nodded, thinking, "True, but I AM curious about my marks for Care of Magical Creatures. Y'know, I feel pretty close to... them." He grinned, averting his eyes from Ron's.

Ron finally sighed, "Hermione'll have a fit."

Harry shrugged, "She's probably asleep by now, overworked herself I bet; let her sleep, I say."

"You're mad!"

Harry shrugged, grinning, "I'm me, not gonna change that anytime soon, am I?"

The two of them vacated the hallways, getting the Invisibility Cloak before shrugging off for Hagrid's hut.

They had hardly gotten out the door when a small, bushy-haired, haggard-looking animal was spotted wandering the halls, sniffing the ground every so often.

* * *

><p>Hagrid looked up from some sheets of parchment as Fang the boar-hound barked excitedly. Curious, he got up to answer the door to see who'd come to see him.<p>

The doorway, however, was strangely empty. Puzzled, he shouted out, "'Ey! Anybody there?"

He nearly jumped when a voice whispered, "Hagrid!" It was Harry! "It's us, let us in,we're under the Invisibility Cloak."

Eyes wide he closed the door as he insisted, "Ye' shouldn' be here!"

Harry and Ron removed the cloak, Ron taking it in hand, "We weren't seen, besides there's a few things I wanted to talk with you about. How're the Hippogriffs?"

Hagrid waved the question off, "Pretty good. Ever'body did good, if that's what yer getting' on about." He turned towards the kitchen, "Since you're here, I'll make some tea. Sound alrigh'?"

"Uhh..." Harry froze just long enough for Ron to notice.

"Yeah, that sounds good, thanks Hagrid."

"_Professor_ Hagrid!" Harry waved a finger, grinning teasingly as Hagrid barked out a laugh.

"Now don' you start getting' on tha'! Only a Professor when 'm teachin'. Wazzis?" He stopped, dumping out his pitcher, "A rat? What's 'e doin 'ere?"

Ron looked to the rat in Hagrid's hand, eyes widening immediately, "Scabbers! You're alive!"

Hagrid grunted, giving the rat a once-over at eye level, which seemed to quiet the rat with fear of being dropped from such a height, "Looks at death's door, if yeh' ask me." he handed the half-dead rat off and went on making tea after rinsing out the mess Scabbers had left behind.

As Ron returned, staring at Scabbers with a befuddled look on his face, Harry gave him a meaningful look, "Ron maybe you should take Scabbers outside, or up to the tower. Don't want him getting scared off again."

It took him a moment, but Ron seemed to get it, realization showing on his face. "Right, needs to take his tonic right away, I bet." He pocketed the rat and went to the door, Hagrid making a move to stop him.

"Don't worry, Black's not after Ron, remember? Mistaken identity aside." Harry said this and Hagrid seemed at least somewhat mollified. Ron gone, Harry turned to Hagrid, "Hagrid, there's something I've got to tell you, but it's a really, really big secret. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall already know, but that's all. D'you think you can keep it secret?"

Hagrid seemed to think about it for a moment, but nodded, "S'long as you've told Dumbledore, I won't tell a soul."

Harry grinned weakly, his secret would probably be out by next year, though he planned on letting it out eventually all the same. "Alright, Hagrid, I'm an Animagus."

Hagrid... stared silently for a moment, not judging but merely trying to understand, "What? Animagus? What kind?"

Harry's grin grew stronger, leave it to Hagrid to care more about 'what' than the little details of 'how', 'when', or mere legality, "I don't exactly know. Here, let me show you and see if you know." He changed and Hagrid's eyes widened.

For a moment there was silence, Hagrid moving only to weakly put his hand out to Harry as though comparing the kitten's size to that of his hand, "That's... you're pretty... er..."

"_[Small? Pink?]_"

Hagrid nodded, "Yeh." It took him a moment, during which Harry floated up a bit higher to give Hagrid a better look at him, "Yeh' got the same eyes, and the scar o' course... _Great Merlin you're flying!_"

Harry nodded, doing a playful flip in the air in front of the overlarge man, "_[Yeah! I'm a magical cat! Just don't know what kind, any ideas?]_"

Hagrid shook his head helplessly, "No idea. You're a _Magical_ Animagus? Harry those are _Really_ rare!"

Harry shrugged, "_[Well, I just am. We think that whatever I am comes from a jungle, Hermione thinks from a really dangerous one over in South America or something.]_"

Right then a loud shout from outside captured their attention, Harry darting outside before Hagrid could do or say anything about it; it didn't take more than a moment for him to lose Harry's trail, though he managed to spot Ron running for the Whomping Willow, chasing after a large black dog that looked like it might have given Fang a good fight. 'I'd better get Dumbledore! This can't be good!'

Harry, meanwhile, spotted Ron and the black dog going under the Whomping Willow, and quickly followed, swooping in through the open passageway as owls tended to do; he silently followed them until they appeared in the Shrieking Shack at the other end, staying unseen and unheard.

When they finally stopped in the first room, Ron and the dog were fighting over Scabbers, who was apparently crawling away despite injuries. Making a decision Harry transformed to his normal form and landed right in front of the frightened rat, who stopped dead cold; Harry grinned. Cute or not he was still a cat, and a little rat stood little chance against him any day.

"Harry! Help me out here!"

Harry's response was to quickly grab Scabbers by the back of the neck and hold him up with one paw, looking around as though expecting something.

That something came in the form of Crookshanks, who lazily waltzed into the room as though he knew he were expected. Ron's eyes bugged out, "Crookshanks! Go away, get out! GAH! Geroff! Blasted dog!"

"Blasted dog, am I?"

There was silence, filled only with the panting of both a now very frightened boy and the exerted, incredibly anemic man that was atop him. Harry decided to fill the silence, "Hello, Sirius Black. Got the rat, don't think he's going anyplace." He'd changed just as Sirius had, giving the man a calm look.

"S-S-Sir-" Ron seemed to be choking, wishing his wand were only a few inches closer. But before anything more could be done or said, let alone Sirius' confusion be resolved, the door opened once more to allow in one Remus Lupin.

Lupin looked at the gathering, eyes wide for a moment before focusing on Scabbers; scowling he pulled his wand on the animal, "_You!_ Sirius, how... unless you switched? That's him, right?" His eyes darted back and forth frantically, "You did, didn't you? But then, it was, _him_!" Harry stepped back and gave Lupin an odd look, but Lupin merely focused on the rat and practically shouted "_HOMOMORPHUS!_" Harry dropping the rat with a yelp just an instant before the spell hit.

The rat suddenly glowed for just a moment, squealing and wriggling frantically before becoming a portly, balding man with wide, fearful eyes and blood coming from his midsection despite his odd attempts to keep it in; he was thin as a rail though his folding skin suggested that he'd once been quite a bit larger, and he was most certainly not a simple rat.

"Hello, Peter."

"H-hello, Remus..."

"Been doing well?" Peter's eyes widened further, but he didn't answer, as Lupin did so for him, "Of course I'd say you're doing quite well, for a man twelve years dead."

Ron's eyes were nearly all white, his face playing a bit of catch-up as his lungs seemed to be fighting with his heart over which would stop first. He'd been carrying... a.. a full grown man.. in his pocket? For some three years? But no, that was weird, but with a man taking the place of his rat, there wasn't a lot of sense to be made...

And most infuriating of all, Harry hardly seemed to care. Instead, he seemed amused. "Could someone tell me what in bloody hell is going on here?"

Sirius, still laying on Ron to keep him from moving around, practically growled, threatening to get up to do something unpleasant to the man, "_THAT_ is Peter Pettigrew."

"But he's dead! Dead because _you_ killed him!"

Harry gave a curious, while still confident look to Sirius, "Yeah, how's that?"

"He's a madman! I only barely got away! Mmmf!" Pettigrew was suddenly wrapped up, bound from head to toe, his mouth covered in magical bindings keeping him quiet; that it'd been Harry to cast the spell drew everyone's attention.

Harry looked back and forth before shrugging, "What? He ran away, pretended to be dead and hid himself away as a rat for twelve years. If he was really innocent, he would have told everyone where he was right off, right?"

Remus blinked owlishly, "Eh, right, of course."

Harry nodded, turning to Pettigrew and waving wand again, making the man's bleeding suddenly stop, "There, keep him from bleeding all over the place." Satisfied, he turned to an almost-stunned Sirius, "Now, Sirius Black, right?" The man nodded, "Right, so as the accused, I guess it's time for you to tell your story." For a moment Sirius seemed confused, and this was just enough to pull his gaze from Pettigrew's throat, "What? You never had a trial, right? May as well make your peace while you can."

There was silence for a few moments, finally broken by Lupin cracking out a quiet, "Sirius?"

He nodded, "Right, fine. You're right, Remus; at the last second I begged them to switch. Figured Voldemort-" Ron choked at the name, "-would expect me to be the secret-keeper. Plan was I'd go off and hide like I _was_, while Peter would be the _real_ secret-keeper, without anyone suspecting it was him." He growled, "Should've known; one of us, Dumbledore expected there to be a spy somewhere. Should have known it was _him_. Sniveling coward, just hung out with us cause we kept the bullies off."

Ron seemed confused, but not immediately sure why, "But, you blew him up."

Sirius shook his head, almost angrily, "No. I went looking for him, to make sure he was still alright. He was gone, and then Voldemort came. I knew what happened, it was the only thing that _could_ have happened. _He_ told him. I found him, and he was in the middle of a street. Bloody brilliant, it was. He yelled how I was guilty, cut off his finger and used his wand from behind his back; made an explosion big enough to kill all those Muggles. Blasted straight through the road to the sewer, then he transformed to a Rat and escaped with all the other rats in the sewers." He growled, "When the Aurors showed up, who would believe me? Eh? We made it on _purpose_ that everyone thought I was Secret Keeper; even Dumbledore thought so. I was thrown straight in Azkaban; you're right, Harry, never got a trial. 'Course those were the times, people tended to just get arrested for even speaking his name. Makes sense, though." His scowl changed to a sort of sunken-faced, wistful smile, "They send innocent people to the Dementors, but half of the real Death Eaters are still running the Ministry. No need for Voldemort, eh? Nothing's really changed 'cept the random killings've stopped, right Remus?"

Remus blinked, "I... suppose so. Yeah, everyone reckons the old Death Eaters are still loyal; claimed they'd been Imperius'd, but only the masses and Minister Fudge really believe them. Lucius Malfoy's got most of the Ministry in his pocket, and he's one that doesn't _need_ an Imperius. I had the 'pleasure' to meet him a few weeks ago; still as... well, no change at any rate."

Sirius grunted in reply, "Yeah, I bet." Pettigrew whimpered, "Oh be quiet, Pettigrew; you had twelve years to tell the truth, but you were too afraid of your Death Eater buddies, right? Figured they knew you sent him to his death, they'd want to get you back, right? So you lay low with a Wizard family so you could keep up with the news." His voice lowered dangerously, "Twelve years. Twelve years I dreamed of finding you and ripping your neck out."

Harry shook his head, "No, he needs to go to Azkaban. He'll probably die there, too, but at least then you'll be absolved; he can't be shown alive if you kill him. And he's still got his wand, the spell he used can still be tracked, right?"

Remus' eyes widened, "Yeah, maybe..." He waved his wand, "_Accio Wormtail's Wand!_" A wand shot up toward him and he grabbed it from the air, "Good idea, Harry." Unseen to most others, however, was the troubled look that he gave the wand.

Ron scowled at Harry, "Harry, how can you be so bloody calm?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno, guess I saw it coming." Lupin, who had perked at hearing Ron's exclamation, seemed to grow even more troubled with Harry's little brush-off.

Sirius growled, but at just that moment another noise entirely caught everyone's attention; a voice coming from just behind the door to the underground passage to Hogwarts, "I think that will be quite enough."

Before anyone could do anything Remus had had two wands pulled from his grasp and Sirius was magically bound to the floor; Harry instantly drew his wand on Professor Snape, expression suddenly serious, "Put down your wand, Potter."

Harry didn't move, "What do you plan on doing, Professor?"

"Severus, what are you doing?"

Snape gave Lupin a glare, "What do you think? I should have known you'd be working with him; never trust a Werewolf."

A growl was heard crossing the room, but that growl was not from any of the people present; before an explanation could be had it made its appearance in the form of a flying fur ball that slammed into Snape's arm, latching its small mouth around his wrist and nearly knocking him to the floor; it was all the distraction needed as, while the slimy Professor was trying to bash the creature's head in Harry had disarmed him and Professor Lupin had knocked him out with a swift hit to the head.

Suddenly Harry found himself holding a frantic little... animal that was whimpering and licking his face, "Alright, alright! I'm safe, thank you." Seemingly mollified the furry little dog-like animal seemed to puff up a bit before biting his finger, "Ow! Okay, I'm sorry! Now get down." He leaned over to let it down gently before handing Lupin back his wand.

"Well... that was unexpected. I suppose we'd best get him untied."

Lupin pointed his wand at Sirius and released the man's bindings; Sirius sat back up and popped his neck, "Wow I get sore quick these days." He gave a dark look to Snape, "What's _he_ doing here, anyway?"

"He's a professor now; potions." Lupin waved dismissively at the man, as though hardly caring at his own words.

Sirius' eyes nearly popped out of their places, "A Professor?! Him? What's Dumbledore thinking?"

Lupin shrugged, "Dunno, I trust him of course. And if it wasn't for Snape I wouldn't be able to be here in the first place. He's been making the potion that keeps me... in control during the Full Moon."

Harry nodded, "Right. Well what now?"

Lupin regarded Harry for a moment, then Sirius, then the men on the floor, "Let's get them out of here. And for Merlin's sake Sirius get off the boy!"

Sirius' eyes blinked owlishly before looking stupidly down at the boy; he laughed airily and got up, offering Ron a hand in the process, "Sorry boy, guess I just got comfortable."

"What?"

"You're the most comfortable thing I've had to sit on in _ages_."

Ron shivered at this, seeming not to want to know exactly what that meant; he wasn't sure he wanted to be a comfortable chair for an escaped convict, innocent or not. Or for that matter anyone else, either.

Except for a few choice girls. Yeah, he wouldn't mind some of _them_ sitting on him, but an old man that looked like he might break in a stiff breeze and smelled a bit like death... No, that just wouldn't fly.

Lupin waved a wand and Pettigrew floated up into the air, Professor Snape was floated, upside-down, by Sirius and the lot of them were ready to head out, "Well, I guess that settles it," Sirius looked through the group, "Once we're done here, you lot are going to have a lot of explaining to do."

The trip back to the school was, at their new leisurely pace, rather a lot longer than it had been when they'd been running away from it; which was fine, as it gave them time to talk, "Sirius, I still don't understand something. If you've had a wand all this time, why didn't you just 'Accio Wormtail' or something?"

Sirius had the decency to look flustered, "Well... I guess you noticed that, huh? I nicked it some time ago, guess I'm gonna have to give it back eventually." The looks he was getting told him he wasn't fooling anybody, and that he'd best answer the question, "Alright, alright. First, it isn't my wand; they snapped mine, remember. And since it isn't _my_ wand, it doesn't really work as well as it should. That and being holed up in Azkaban for twelve years made me rusty to begin with. I'm lucky to be able to _remember_ any spells, let alone be able to do them. Besides, summoning a living thing takes a lot more energy, skill, and... well, _delicacy_ than summoning, say, a piece of parchment, or a wand."

Lupin actually looked sideways at this, noting that Sirius was being none-too-gentle with Professor Snape, "Yes. Which reminds me, I'm going to have to thank whoever left the Marauder's Map out where I could find it. I'm just glad I had the mind to grab it before it blew away, and that I've had a fondness for the Willow, whether I need to take the old path or not." Suddenly his eyes took on a hollow, thoughtful look.

"Why's that, Professor?"

Sirius answered, grinning at Ron, "Moony here," He gestured to Lupin, "is a Werewolf. Old Dumbledore put the Willow in to protect this path because Madam Pomfrey would send him to the Shrieking Shack every full moon; the Whomping Willow would keep anyone out so he couldn't attack them, so he was more or less safe. 'Course we couldn't just let 'im have it on his own, so James and I figured out how to become Animagi, Wormtail here coming along for the ride."

Harry seemed in thought about something, but at about that time Professor Lupin let out a hollow 'No!' and bolted away from them, leaving Pettigrew behind and running as though his life depended on it.

Everyone was stunned for a moment, but Sirius reacted the most quickly of them all, "Dammit, what's wrong with him now?" He turned to the younger ones and growled out "Stay here!" before becoming a dog, dropping Snape in the process, and going after Lupin with great leaps and bounds.

Harry was the next to recover, giving his friends meaningful glances before stating, firmly, "Stay Here. Guard Them." He then ran off down the tunnel just as the older men had, without even looking back.

Ron nearly ran after him, but before he could get anywhere he was tackled down by a frantic little animal that seemed determined to stop him from following, "What? What're you doing? We've got to help them!"

Hermione snorted before gazing at the bound bodies... one of which was suddenly no longer bound... or seemingly even there, "Vee?"

"Hey, where'd Wormtail go?"

Hermione was the one to answer, her large ears picking up the sound of a small animal scampering along the walls; acting on instinct she gave chase, followed by Ron and soon after by Crookshanks, who thanks to his larger size managed to overtake the usually-a-girl's relatively small strides. "Vee! Ee~vee!" She didn't know if Crookshanks could understand her, but it didn't hurt to try.

Ron almost tripped when Hermione suddenly stopped, forcing him to do some fancy footwork in the dark tunnel to keep from stepping on her; he turned to ask what was up and found her to be gasping for breath. Apparently she'd passed the torch of chasing after Wormtail off to Crookshanks, "Well, if anyone can catch him, it'd be Crookshanks. C'mon, let's go find Harry."

Hermione gave Ron a tired look and then crawled into his outstretched hands, allowing him to carry her the rest of the way.

* * *

><p>Once Harry had made it out of the tunnel he found out exactly why Professor Lupin had run off: Apparently he'd realized that he'd forgotten to take his anti-Werewolf potion. By the time he'd made it to the outside world the two canines were having a go at it, and Sirius seemed to be losing.<p>

Making a decision Harry joined in; Sirius was alarmed at first, even with how Harry made a show of punching the rampaging Werewolf hard enough to knock it into a nearby tree, stunning the usually-a-teacher, "Don't worry, I'm an Animagus too, remember?" He then shifted to his smaller form and leapt out of the way just as the Werewolf lunged at him from behind.

Sirius, however, was not mollified by Harry's change; not because he was worried about the boy being turned, as Werewolves were only really dangerous to Humans. Rather, Harry's new size would prove to be a problem, as he looked as though one good bite would cut him clean in half. With this in his mind Sirius fought even harder than before, but found that Harry's new form was surprisingly effective; he seemed to be able to keep the larger Werewolf so off-kilter that Sirius was all that more effective at controlling him, and the Werewolf seemed almost unable to properly attack back, as though he were rather severely confused by the two-on-one fight.

Soon the two Animagi had to give chase as the Werewolf dashed off into the forest, snarling a bit as he went.

The fight in the woods was even more frantic than the one from before, as the trees themselves seemed to almost be impeding the Animagi's efforts, almost as though they were helping the so-called 'Dark Creature' to escape. In response, to Sirius' utter bewilderment, Harry seemed to step it up even further, seeming to dart in and out so fast as to almost be flying, as though he were getting his footing on the air itself before using those big, strong-looking legs to dart in whichever direction he jolly-well pleased, landing punches that were frankly far too powerful for something so small.

At some point during the fight Sirius suddenly had to stop, eyes opening wide as a coldness clenched his heart; Harry apparently felt it, too, as an entire flock of Dementors cast themselves into the clearing, actually allowing Lupin to bound away as though out of respect for a fellow Dark Creature.

Sirius backed up, growling angrily as the Dementors closed in, but to his immense surprise Harry did not. Instead he shifted to Human form and actually leapt at them, showing that that odd strength of his carried between both forms as he punched and lashed at the dark robed abominations.

To Sirius it was like watching the worst moment of his life unfold before his eyes; Harry was going to die. Worse, the Dementors were going to suck out his soul! Harry, the last bit of hope his heart had in the world, was going to be reduced to something worse than dead and there was nothing he could do about it...

Just like for Lily and James. Just like the Longbottoms. Just like all the other friends he'd ever watched die. All the funerals he'd had to attend during the last War.

His heart gave out, even as an animal unable to withstand the thought of finally losing Harry, whom he really did think of as his only remaining family. He slumped to the ground, eyes going empty and simply waiting for the blasted things to give him their kiss. He didn't care anymore.

It was over.

Everything was over.

"_BEEEEEEE!_"

Harry looked behind him, seeing something silver coming toward him; a high-pitched cry had sounded just before the silver shot had gone by, erupting into an explosion amongst the Dementors before seeming to go through their ranks, scattering them like crows being swatted with a broom.

And when he looked and saw what'd done it, he could only frown in puzzlement. That certainly hadn't been what he'd been expecting.

He noticed the other's gaze suddenly flit to Sirius and he looked back; his eyes widened considerably as he found that the dog was laying perfectly still before the leaning form of a single Dementor. With a roar he charged it, hitting it in the head as hard as he could.

Unfortunately, that very emotion had been all the crack in his armor that was needed, as the cold immediately took over; he heard screaming, pleading. He heard a man shouting "Get Harry! I'll hold him off!" He heard a woman pleading "Take me! Leave Harry alone!" He heard cruel laughter, and saw a bright green light...

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><p>End Chapter 7<p>

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><p>As an author, especially to a story that I so enjoy writing even without encouragement, I absolutely LOVE reading my reviews, and that I've been getting such a positive response makes me feel rather good, as well, and unfortunately a bit talkative. (insert random blush here) I don't think it's really all that great to banter on too much, I try to keep it less than ten percent of the chapter length, that being a length I've heard quoted as being acceptable, but I also don't want to give too much away. At the moment I'd like to say just two things. First that The Virus is one of my favorites, and second Harry should be around level 15 at this point, having done little of what one would call training so far. Obviously that will change with time, but it's not like he's been going through tall grass and challenging Pidgey's to fights. XD<p>

Hmm, actually that's an idea. (mumbles distractedly to self) Implementation to come, then. (nods to self)

Well I hope everyone likes the cliffhanger! Byes!

_Edit: (8/7/2012) Fixed a couple spelling errors, created, removed, and moved some lines to make the whole thing make more sense (hopefully). Removed the dreaded smart-quotes and fixed some lingering punctuation errors._

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	8. A Puzzle

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

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><p>Chapter 8 : A Puzzle<p>

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><p>Harry awoke to the sights, sounds, and smells of the Hospital Wing.<p>

He was immediately assaulted by a crying girl, "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry!"

Alarmed and confused, Harry put an arm around Hermione's shoulders, "What's wrong? What are you sorry for?"

She seemed rather unsettled, shaking slightly and not looking Harry directly in the eye, "Sirius; when Ron and I found you out in the woods, knocked out like you were we took you back to the castle." She sniffed a bit, "Professor Dumbledore found us as we were coming out of them, and he took Sirius from us. We told him everything; well Ron did, mostly, but he seemed like he believed us."

Harry didn't understand, "Then what's the problem?"

She sniffed again, seemingly only barely keeping control of herself, yet also unwilling to meet his gaze, "He.. I don't know how, but somebody from the Ministry showed up, I think somebody got spooked and called for them. Oh Harry! We lost Scabbers! Wormtail, whatever, and without him no one will ever believe Sirius is innocent..."

"So what..."

Hermione was shaking, "They've got him locked up." Her voice was quiet, small, "They're going to give him the Dementor's Kiss."

Suddenly Hermione shrieked and backed away as a pink bubble popped into existence, thrusting her away from Harry, who looked about as ready to kill as she never hoped to see him look, eyes glowing a pink so bright as to be blinding. "Harry, stop! What're you-"

"That's alright, Miss Granger. Harry, it's going to be alright." Harry turned his eyes calmly on the Headmaster, seeming almost to be judging the man, who admirably did not back down, "I know how you two can save him."

Harry seemed interested, his eyes losing a bit of their hardness as the light died away; he gave the man a curious, calm look before asking, "How?"

"That... is why your friend was allowed to stay with you."

Both children seemed confused at that, "What do you mean?"

Dumbledore gave Hermione a sparkling look, "Three turns should do it, Miss Granger. And remember, don't be seen." He then turned away, walking out of the room even as Harry dropped his pink glow entirely out of sheer puzzlement.

"What? Three turns? What's that mean?"

Hermione looked left and right, seeming incredibly conflicted before she pulled something from the neck of her robes; attached to the end of a long chain was a sort of hourglass. Before Harry could ask any more questions she managed to loop the chain around both her and Harry's necks and turned the hourglass three times.

What resulted was one of the strangest experiences of Harry's life so far; the feeling, while rightly indescribable to begin with, seemed oddly familiar in a way that it really had no right being, and when the hands on the clock on the wall finally finished spinning backwards Harry pulled the chain from his neck and wobbled away for a few steps.

Eyes wide, he looked at Hermione, who was sticking her head out the door to check if the coast was clear, "We just traveled through time, didn't we?" He said this in almost a whisper, as though both confused and awestruck as he rightfully was.

Hermione whispered back, "Yes, it's called a Time Turner. Look, just don't ask questions right now, alright? C'mon, and make sure you aren't seen!"

Hermione led the way and Harry followed. He wasn't really sure where they were going, but finally they both settled on an unused classroom, where they both sat for a moment as Hermione looked troubled. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. It's just... why three hours? We really only would've needed one to rescue Sirius, right?"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe we need the extra time to come up with a plan."

"Maybe."

"So... do we have a plan?"

"This _is_ the plan! ... apparently."

"oh." Harry sat in silence for a moment, "Where did you say Sirius was being held?"

"In one of the towers... I just don't see how we'd be able to break him out, not with a Minister coming, we'd be seen for sure. There's only one way in or out..."

Harry was silent for a moment, leaning against a wall as he closed his eyes in thought, "It's really high then, I'd suppose?"

Hermione nodded, "Yeah."

They sat for a time in silence, both thinking quietly before Harry said, calmly, "Unless we could fly him out."

"What?"

Harry looked at her calmly, as though he'd made a decision, "We'll have to fly him out. He can take my Firebolt."

Hermione's eyes widened considerably with this, "What?! Harry you can't be serious!"

"No, Sirius is the one we're going to save."

Hermione gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing a couple of times, "Wha- Harry take this seriously!"

"I am. C'mon, we've got plenty of time, we need to get all the way up to the tower and get my Firebolt without being seen." He seemed to think for a moment, then nodded, "Yeah, you can go as an Animal..." Suddenly he stopped, "Actually, why _were_ you down in the Shrieking Shack? I'd figured you'd have gone to bed after all the tests were over."

Hermione looked at the floor, much calmer as she spoke, almost blushing, "I... wanted to get away. So I transformed and, well, things are a lot simpler as an animal. A lot fewer emotions, so I just walked around sniffing things and generally not caring... I smelled you and Ron's scent going off to the grounds and followed you. I guess I was mad at you for not inviting me to come, or maybe for going off where you could get hurt I'm not sure. I followed you, and then when I saw Professor Snape pointing his wand at you, I... oh Merlin I've attacked a Professor!"

Harry laughed, causing Hermione to give him a sharp look, "What's so funny?"

He laughed a second more before responding, "Hermione, are you telling me that you attacked him, and you didn't even know what was going on?"

She blinked, almost alarmed, "What? Well- I, I don't know what you mean?"

"You didn't even know that Sirius was there until afterwards, did you?"

"I... I didn't think of it. It's just, he was attacking you, and I helped you. I, I guess I really didn't know what was going on; so long as I was helping you I didn't care." She blushed a bit, seeming embarrassed about her frankness.

Harry chuckled a bit more, seeming to relax bit by bit as he did, returning to his normal, carefree stance, "Well I'm glad you did, perfect timing that. Now c'mon, we've got a plan now and it didn't even take three hours to come up with." He looked out the door surreptitiously, "Though it might take us that long to pull it off."

* * *

><p>The boys of the Third Year dorm in Gryffindor tower were blissfully unaware that their dorm was being watched, that a small bird had staked out the opening while they were all gone. They didn't know that Hermione was coming up after having spent far too much time hiding in shadows, trying to keep her furry little form from being spotted by anyone who didn't need to see her. They didn't know that she was going to pop into their room and open the window, allowing Harry to swoop in and become a human once more.<p>

They didn't know what was going on, and that was just fine.

"Harry, what if someone sees us?"

Harry shrugged, "Not much we can do about that; we just need to plan it right. I'll keep an eye out and you fly it so we can hide it for the right time."

"W-what?" Hermione almost seemed ready for another panic attack, "Fly it? Me? Fly?"

Harry blinked, "Yeah, and I'll keep an eye out."

"Can't we just, I don't know, carry it out?"

"Hermione, we'd be seen for sure." He seemed to give her an odd look, "You... _did_ learn to fly... right?"

"Wh- Of course I did! It's just, I, that is-"

"You're not very good at it? Or are you afraid of heights?"

Hermione did another imitation of a fish for a few moments, until she seemed to shrink back a bit, "A, little of both, I suppose..."

Harry sighed, then gave the girl a wan smile, "That's alright. I'll help you."

"What? But Harry!"

He shook his head, still smiling softly, "No. My Animagus form can fly on its own, I can help you guide it and catch you if you fall."

"Wh- H-harry, I don't think I can-" She was silenced as a finger met her lips.

"Hermione, believe in me, okay?"

There was a moment of silence, where the only real movement was likely that of Hermione's heart leaping out of her chest, blood rushing to her cheeks until, finally, she nodded her head. Harry seemed satisfied and turned back to the window, looking out it to check if there was anyone on the grounds that could spot them. "Alright, we'll have to go a bit higher to keep from being seen. If we're high enough when we go there, we could probably land somewhere in the woods and wait."

"H-higher?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. C'mon, nobody's looking."

"But Harry, what about after-?"

Harry shook his head, "Let's not talk about this here, can't have someone walk in on us." He transformed and floated just beside the window, watching Hermione expectantly. He gestured her to the window and she gulped, walking to it and sticking the broom outside and sitting on the windowsill.

She tried not to look down, tried not to imagine how far up they must have been, but when Harry closed the window behind her she nearly had a panic attack; only Harry hugging her around the neck kept her from it.

Shaking, she put the broom under her and, hesitantly, tried to mount it while still keeping some form of -awkward- foothold on the windowsill. It was perhaps the most absolutely terrifying thing she'd ever done up to that point, and she couldn't imagine doing anything worse than that in the future.

The broom, true to its nature, held her up, though its swiftness to react to its rider made it shudder in response to her shivers, despite Harry keeping most of it down to mild tremors.

The ride had, from there, only gotten worse. The higher they got the colder it got, and Hermione seemed to be having a tough time of keeping her balance. Harry tried to help comfort her by wrapping his tail around her wrist, but it truly took all the girl was worth just to make it all the way to the ground without hyperventilating or passing out.

Once they were on the ground, only _then_ did she allow herself to finally panic, curling up in a ball on the ground and almost crying as she allowed her nerves to take over for a time.

Harry comforted her as best he could until she'd calmed down enough to speak again, saying simply, "Please never make me do anything like that again?"

Harry grinned softly, "I promise, you stay on the ground from now on."

She nodded strongly in response, "Good." Though she still seemed a bit shaky, she managed to calm down enough to be able to talk with him as they waited for the right moment to act.

"Well, the rest of the plan's pretty simple. I have to go down to the lake to break up that pack of Dementors. If I don't I'm likely to die, so that's a given no matter what."

"What?" Hermione seemed pretty perplexed at this, so Harry elaborated.

"Sirius and I were surrounded by Dementors. I heard a cry and then next thing I know my Patronus barges in and swats them all away like a flock of birds. Which means that if I _don't_ get seen, I'll instead get killed."

Hermione's eyes widened, "Then what are we waiting for!? We have to get to the lake!"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head slowly, "Not yet, we've got a while to go. Anyway, after I save myself you'll get me the Firebolt from wherever we hide it, and I'll fly up and save Sirius."

Hermione looked doubtful, "You really think it'll be that simple?"

It was with a shrug that the boy picked up his broom, turning to leave the clearing, "Dunno. Doubt it. But simple plans can change the fastest; we'll figure it out by the end."

Hermione only nodded, following the boy.

* * *

><p>"And there you go, see?" Hermione nodded as she looked where Harry was indicating, seeing herself in animal form going in through the opening that Professor Snape had left in his wake, seeking the other Harry out.<p>

"Alright, so we've got a bit of time."

"Yeah. You know where to go, right?" Hermione nodded again, indicating her understanding of the plan; Harry could move pretty quick, so she was to hide near the school proper, close to the base of the tower where Sirius was to be held. She'd simply sit there as though resting after a particularly hard day. If anyone approached she would hide the broom and transform if possible. In fact it was likely that she would do that whether someone came along or not, as both of them were pretty sure that she'd be pretty easily spooked in the state she was in, despite having quite a bit of time to calm down.

Harry nodded in return and Hermione headed off, keeping a good awareness of what was going on around her, using her memories of what should have been the past to help her keep from being spotted.

The wait until Professor Lupin came barging from beneath the tree was almost excruciating, time seeming to get slower and slower with each passing moment.

Finally, after feeling a bit like time had a grudge against him, the moment arrived and Harry sprung into action. Although perhaps a bit blurry, Harry's memory of the time provided him with a rough outline of where they'd been and gone throughout the whole scuffle. He used that knowledge along with his pre-won knowledge of the forest topography to keep himself out of sight while staying close-by. When he felt the familiar cold he changed into something... else. He didn't know, rightly, exactly what it was he'd changed into, only that it was almost totally unaffected by the Dementor's cold and seemed to be immune from their notice.

Once they were gone, oddly without having noticed him at all, Harry shook himself back to the present before getting up to all fours, then back to his two human feet as he prepared his wand.

As the Dementors closed in around the little group, Harry whispered his incantation, "_Expecto Patronum._" With a flick of the wrist a pink blob came from the end of his wand, sticking to the end of it like a drop of water that was reluctant to let go of it while taking a clearly spherical shape, the colors swirling about for a moment as he watched, almost impatient for what he knew to be the next part to finish.

Finally the pink settled itself down into two parts, one part pure red, one part pure white with the red on top; with a grin he transformed, careful to keep the ball of energy as stable as possible, into the form he'd seen earlier.

Suddenly understanding dawned on him.

_Time Itself_ dawned on him.

And he was glad. He smiled, held up the ball, wound one arm back "Serrriiiii-" then flung it forward as hard as he could, "_BEEEEEEE!_"

As the ball flew through the air he hazarded a look at the bedlam that the beast which popped out created; it was nearly as tall as Hagrid, but unlike the man there was no hair on it, instead it looked like some kind of silver body-builder, complete with a championship belt around its waist. Its head was inhuman, but that and its toes were the only real clues that it really wasn't Human.

And frankly, its sheer power was somewhat frightening to behold. As a human, Harry could Fight. But he didn't think he would ever stand a chance in a fight against a creature built from head to toe of pure muscle, whose raw power was so great as to be close to overwhelming it at all times.

Dementors dealt with, Harry gave himself a pleased gaze, then looked at Sirius. A moment of agony threatened to take him; he could solve the problem right that moment, but he couldn't. He understood time now, and that moment was beyond him.

He withdrew just as he watched himself punch the final creature out, his muscular Patronus galloping after him with great, powerful strides.

Once he knew he was out of sight he took a moment to look himself over.

'Green all over? Check. Great big head? Check. Eyes just as big? Check. Antennae? Check. Little fairy wings? Double-check. Scar? Damn, check.' He sighed, giving his Patronus a look. In response it gave a silent shout, flexing its over-sized muscles before disappearing in a flash of light, leaving behind a red and white ball, which then also disappeared.

For a moment he wondered if he could cross the grounds in this form, as no one, not even Hermione, knew about this form; only his past self had a chance of understanding what it meant, as only his past self understood his Patronus well enough to know it was him that'd saved him. But then a sudden rock of inspiration struck and he transformed into a human just long enough to mutter a spell, "_Accio Invisibility Cloak!_"

He knew exactly where he'd left it in Hagrid's hut, had memorized every single fold, frayed edge, bit of pulled fabric, and slight nuance of the entire thing from top to bottom; he hadn't practiced the Accio charm very much at all, it having not even come up in Charms class yet, but it was remarkably easy and seeing Professor Lupin perform it earlier had made it all the easier for him.

He caught the cloak and slipped it over himself, transforming at once and flying at top speed across the grounds, an immense grin on his face.

* * *

><p>To be honest, Hermione was growing a bit bored. The Firebolt wasn't going anywhere, and no one was brave enough to go out on the grounds to look for students, save perhaps for Dumbledore or Hagrid, both of whom she'd seen coming and going through the main doors.<p>

Despite the falling sun and growing wind, she wasn't cold, courtesy her thick fur; when she wrapped her tail around herself it nearly tripled her protection against the wind and she actually found herself to be quite comfortable.

It was still boring. She couldn't hear any struggles. She heard a bit of howling, of course, but having not been present for the fight she didn't know exactly how much time that meant she had. When Harry showed up she would change back and check her watch, but there wasn't much she could do until he did.

Suddenly the wind picked up with a force that would have knocked her over had she not already been sitting against the wall; she closed her eyes against the gust and only when it died down did she open them again.

She looked around for a moment, almost feeling as though she were missing something. Then her nose told her what that was, "Vee?"

A pink head appeared out of mid air, "Mew!" Harry pulled the cloak away and showed it to her, "Mew Mew!"

Hermione almost giggled, 'He summoned it, so he already knows the summoning charm. He's going to pass me at this rate.' Harry looked left and right for a moment, looking curious, his body language clearly stating that he wanted to know where the Firebolt was.

Hermione pointed to it, and Harry rummaged around in the tall grass growing against the castle until he saw it and pulled it out. He then transformed into a human and gave her a wink, "Well, here goes." He pulled out the Firebolt, mounted it, and threw the cloak over both it and himself, hiding all from view.

Well, from view except from below, which Hermione proved by hopping up to bat at his robe as he hovered near the ground, "Veevee! Veee~"

Harry chuckled, "Yes, I see you too." He grabbed the edges of the cloak and tried to, at least mostly, wrap them under himself so he had a mostly complete cloak about him. It wouldn't win him any beauty contests, but as the cloak would make it so the judges couldn't see most of him anyway it didn't seem to matter all that much.

Though he did sit for a moment to wonder where that thought had come from.

"Right, well, better get going, what time is it?"

Hermione changed back, checking her watch, "Almost time. I'll make it to the Hospital Wing, you meet me there alright?" Harry made an accepting noise and Hermione scampered off on all fours once more.

While under the Invisibility Cloak Harry felt bold enough to actually hover just outside the window of the room that Hermione told him Sirius would be placed in; he actually watched as his godfather was placed none-too-kindly in there by a man who looked to be an Auror, and then left locked inside.

Although mildly surprised that the Auror would leave him alone, Harry wasn't going to miss his chance; he gently knocked on the window to get his godfather's attention.

Sirius didn't quite seem to understand where the noise was coming from, but he got the message quickly enough and went to the window, looking through it with a distinctly puzzled look on his face.

Harry pulled the cloak up just enough that Sirius could see his face and the man nearly fell backwards before quickly opening the window. Before the man could do or say anything further Harry said simply, "Going to get on or what?"

Sirius opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, his voice actually cracking when he choked out, "Harry? What, who, how?"

"Don't ask until we're on the ground. Just get on." Harry gave the door a nervous look, knowing that what he was doing was a pretty big risk.

"Right." Sirius seemed to understand as well as he quickly reached out, struggling to get onto the broom without pushing Harry off. Oddly the broom began behaving strangely, and there was a momentary feeling of vertigo as the thing suddenly gave him full control. "Harry!" His heart actually leapt into his throat when he realized that the boy was no longer behind him; had he fallen off? No!

Near panic, he looked around and, especially, below trying to find his godson before he fell too far. A small noise to the side caught his attention, though.

A pink cat looked at him from the windowsill, grinned, closed said window, then made a point of floating up before heading face-first toward the ground, as though daring his godfather to follow. Flabbergasted, Sirius pulled the cloak around himself and followed. He landed gaping at the creature before him until it spoke in some sort of odd, mewling language that he somehow managed to understand, "_[Don't ask, I'll write you later. Just take them and go, get out of here as quick as possible. I know you can understand me, and I haven't got much time before I have to be back in the Hospital Wing, so just go.]_"

Sirius looked at the Firebolt, then touched the cloak before grumbling below his breath, "I'll return them later." Harry was about to respond to the negative when he broke through again, "Harry this is a Firebolt. It's got a serial number, the Ministry can track it. The cloak was your father's, it's yours now. I'll return them."

Harry gave him a look directly in the eye, despite that he was beneath the cloak and thusly quite invisible, "_[Fine. Just go for now.]_" Sirius grunted in reply and took off, shooting for the Forbidden Forest before climbing above it, skimming over the treetops headed for parts unknown.

Harry sighed, transformed into Crookshanks, and headed off as fast as he dared for the Hospital Wing.

* * *

><p>"And that's how we did it, Professor."<p>

Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle in his eye seeming to come together with the other one from the other eye to multiply like rabbits, making it almost as though his whole face was sparkling, "Very interesting. He's right, of course, that the Firebolt can be tracked. Anywhere the Ministry finds it they'll likely believe is the place that he took off from, so if he goes far enough away that may be enough to pull the Ministry's focus from Hogwarts, as well."

Harry nodded, having thought of that as well. "Yes, but if he returns the cloak the same way..."

Dumbledore nodded, "That could raise unneeded questions. I'll find a way to have him keep hold of it until I can take it back personally. You'll have it back by next semester, I promise." Harry nodded, knowing that the old wizard meant every word.

Ron, who had also been by for the explanation, finally turned to Harry. "Harry, mate, now you have to answer me one, and don't you dare shrug it off again." His face showed that he meant business, and Harry sighed with a slight smile.

"Fine. It's all Crookshanks' fault, anyway."

Hermione frowned, "Crookshanks' fault? What are you talking about?"

Harry chuckled, "Crookshanks is part Kneazle, and Kneazles can sense when someone is untrustworthy. I've transformed into him so much this year that I've got nearly every untrustworthy person in the school memorized. Crookshanks trusted Sirius, so he must have been trustworthy. Scabbers, though, has been setting me on edge since I saw him in Diagon Alley; didn't know why until I saw him in the crystal ball during the Divinations exam, though."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled even more, "You saw him during your exam?" Harry nodded and Dumbledore felt it necessary to ask, "Then why, if I may ask, do you feel the need to leave the class if you obviously have talent in the field."

Harry actually huffed, indignant tears coming to his eyes, "'Cause I can't stand to be up there! For one she's always predicting my death and for two the smell up there makes my head spin something awful! Besides, I don't need her class to tell the future, and don't want to anyway."

Ron actually scoffed, "What? Why not! It sure helped tonight!"

Harry gave an indignant little noise, "Because you aren't _supposed_ to know the future until the Time Keepers _want_ you to know. Professor Trelawney's about as close as they want us to get right now, especially with how..." He quieted down, eyes actually moving to the floor, "With how bad things are gonna get pretty soon. The only real predictions for a few years now will be bad ones. Just... if I turn green or know something I shouldn't, it's important, okay?"

Dumbledore, at that, seemed far more quiet than he really seemed to have any right to be, even to the point that his quietness drowned out the confused noises of the other children, Fawkes giving Harry a sharp look from his perch.

The quiet seemed to be drowned out by Dumbledore's soft, commanding voice, "Harry."

Harry flinched, barely lifting his eyes to meet the older man's gaze, "Yes?"

"Did you have contact with these... 'Time Keepers'?"

Harry flinched again and his friends' eyes all widened; Harry's heart beat pretty hard and fast for a few moments before he gave a calming sigh, seeming to deflate while at the same time steeling himself, "I'm... sort of... one of them."

Hermione gasped, her body flinching powerfully as she actually backed away a tic, eyes wide and whole body burning as though she'd been plunged into hot water; Ron was in much the same state and honestly only Fawkes seemed more interested than surprised.

"Harry... You're a... Time Keeper?" Harry nodded mutely, almost shamefully, "Do you know what that means?" Harry lowered his eyes, seeming to not want to answer. Dumbledore answered for him, "Harry, it means you're a... a god."

Harry winced, the quiet almost totally oppressive. He shook for a moment, fearing that he was near tears and sounding it as he croaked out, "Can't I just... be me? Just... Harry?"

Ron was mouthing 'A God' over and over, as though his mind were stunned. Dumbledore seemed to almost have pity in his eyes.

Hermione, however, closed in and gave him a hug, "Whatever you are, you'll always just be Harry to us. Nothing else matters."

Harry nodded, feeling rather a lot better as he gave Ron a side-long look, completely empty of expression as he said, "Y'know Ron, that's twice now I've almost died this year. Think you've come close enough yet?"

Ron had the decency to blush before he recovered, scratching his chin as though uninterested, "I dunno. I think you're gonna have to come closer than _that_. Lose an arm or two and we'll talk." He grinned, plainly showing that he was only playing, which made Harry grin as well as Hermione rolled her eyes.

Fawkes gave a trill, speaking as though only to Harry, "_{You've got good friends there, godling.}_"

Harry nodded happily, smiling, "Yeah, I know. And don't call me that."

"_{As you wish. But your name does not translate well to my language.}_" He stopped for a moment to allow that to sink in before continuing, mostly ignoring the looks the humans were giving them, "_{What should I call you?}_"

Harry blinked for a while, then sat back to think. "You're right, I need a nickname. Can't just keep calling myself 'an odd pink cat', right?" He leaned back, thinking.

Ron, also, thought, "What about 'Bolt'? Y'know, for your scar?"

Harry waved that idea off, "Nah, too obvious and everybody'd know it in a day."

Hermione also tried to come up with something, "What about... Ruffles? Like your hair?"

Harry actually snorted disdainfully, "Don't even like my hair like that. I'd fix it if I could figure out how. No, it's gotta be something more about my form than me as a human."

Dumbledore's eye sparkled as he suggested, "Pinky?"

Harry barked out a laugh, returning the wizened old professor's gaze, "No, I don't think so. How about Flash?"

Hermione blinked, "Flash?"

Harry shrugged, "Well, I flash every time I transform, right? And I get to places in a flash, like really quick. And I do things in a flash, my magic flashes sometimes, and lightning flashes as well. I for one think it fits." He smiled and nodded his head. His friends both rolled their eyes as Dumbledore seemed amused.

Fawkes only trilled with a bit of amusement, "_{Flash it is, then. That I can speak, at least.}_"

Harry grinned, "Like in Flash Fire, then?" Fawkes only looked at him with a twinkle in his eye not unlike that of Dumbledore's.

* * *

><p>The loss of his Firebolt had hit the school far harder than it had hit Harry. To his house mates it was as though a part of his identity had been ripped away; when Sirius Black somehow managed to steal it from <em>him<em>, it was almost as though he'd stolen it from _Gryffindor_, a sentiment that annoyed Harry to no end.

Additionally, the information that Sirius Black had been captured, then mysteriously escaped _with Harry's broom_ led much of the house to a near panic until the Prophet revealed that his broom had been found in a town nearly halfway across the country, identity confirmed by its serial number. According to the source it would be kept by the Authorities as evidence until such time as either Black was caught or its usefulness was negated.

Oliver Wood, hearing that, had immediately stormed out in an attempt to ensure that his Seeker would have his broom come next season.

As promised Ron and Hermione didn't seem to be treating him any differently than they had before; Ron mostly just thought it was cool, and perhaps rather useful, whereas Hermione simply thought of it as a responsibility not unlike his responsibilities to keep his grades up and nose as clean as possible. In fact, where Ron had at least twice asked if he could make some odd, random prediction the boy had thought might be funny, Hermione had all but demanded he not do something he wasn't supposed to.

In other words, things had pretty much gone back to normal rather quickly.

The day before they were to leave on the Hogwarts Express, the Weasley twins gave Harry the real break he'd been needing: On that morning, the two of them came to the breakfast table looking harassed, entertained, and quite blue. They were blue from head to toe, with lengthened silver hair that nearly reached their bottoms and was almost perfectly smooth.

Someone made the odd comment that they looked a bit like some sort of weird blue elves, and they had grinned at each-other and said, at a good volume, "And we have been gifted-" "by our dear Professor Trelawney!" "With a prediction as grand-" "as our new selves!" They raised their arms dramatically, proclaiming in a voice not unlike that of the aforementioned professor, "_Someone in this school will eventually die!_" Their voices almost perfectly in sync, making the whole display all the more entertaining.

Nearly the entire school cracked up; everyone knew that being born was an absolute guarantee of death. Even a bunch of the Slytherins got a chuckle from the display, earning the Twins and their little sister a place in Hogwarts History as being among the few people to truly unite the school, all with a simple laugh.

Well, those excluding the ones loyal to Professor Trelawney, of course, who didn't buy the act one bit.

Later that day Professor McGonagall asked him to meet her in her office, and once there he was given a pair of pieces of parchment. The first was a list of marks, showing what he got in result for his various exams that year. The second was from Professor Vector, who had apparently decided that he'd shown himself to be on-par with the rest of the class that he would be joining next year. Professor Trelawney did not, unfortunately, send him a parting note, but he didn't really expect to hear from her anyway.

By the time of the Leaving Feast nearly the entire school had heard of Sirius Black's escape, and though theories abounded, no one seemed to come even close to the truth. If ever Harry wanted to know the thousands of different ways someone could steal his broom from him, all he needed to do was perk his ears up during the Feast, which had taken place beneath banners of red and gold as Gryffindor had won the House Championship for the third year running, largely due to their performance in that year's Quidditch Cup. While all of Gryffindor and even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff houses celebrated loudly, not even the hissing of Slytherin could drown out the whispers of "I bet Potter threw it at him like he did those Dementors, then ran the other way", which was doubled by "Or maybe he apparated to their dorm looking for him, then took the broom or something", which caused Hermione to mutter into her goblet of pumpkin juice about not being able to Apparate on school grounds.

Boarding the Hogwarts Express had been a somber affair, and as Harry looked out the window he sighed; even that bouncy energy he was now constantly filled with couldn't cope with the sense of loss he felt, both over Sirius not being able to be a free man, and over Professor Lupin being forced to resign due to Professor Snape's actions 'the day after', during which he'd let loose that Professor Lupin was, in fact, a werewolf who'd gone rampaging over the grounds the previous night.

It was with a bit of pain that he remembered the meeting they'd had when he'd gone to see Formerly-Professor Lupin one last time.

Dumbledore had told him everything already, including the bit about Crookshanks, which had apparently solved some great riddle that'd been bouncing around in his head. There were a few sad farewells and Moony, as he apparently insisted upon being called now that he was no longer a Professor, gave Harry back the Marauder's Map, saying his father would have been disappointed if his son had never discovered any of the secret passages out of the school.

Harry had then asked something that he had had on his mind, and just the memory of it made him shiver in his seat. "Homomorphus" was a spell that would cause an Animagus to become his or her original human form, and as Harry had essentially lost the ability to do so on his own, he'd asked Moony to perform the charm on him.

The result had felt a bit like most of his soul were being shorn away from him, ripped right out of his heart as his mind was sent through a meat grinder; for the split second that he spent in what was apparently his birth form, he'd felt an emptiness unlike anything he'd ever would have considered existing consumed him, leaving him to shake, shout, and cry all at the same time, leaving behind a dull ache that stayed with him even after boarding the Hogwarts Express.

"It would appear..." Moony had said, "That trying that again would be a bad idea."

Harry sighed as he stared out the window, mind whirling but not really going anywhere.

Hermione saw him in his state and sighed in return, sitting next to him and giving him a somber look, "Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry shrugged without thinking about it, "Dunno, guess I will be. Wish Professor Lupin hadn't had to leave."

The Hogwarts Express started to move then, and after adjusting to the movement Hermione agreed, "Yes, I agree, but you have to admit his reasoning is sound."

Harry nodded, "Bet we get a Death Eater next year."

Hermione seemed to perform a sort of odd half-gasp-half-huff, "Honestly, we'd better not! I'd rather have a useless one like Professor Lockhart than a Death Eater, helpful or not!"

"Ah-HAH! You finally admit it!"

"Admit what, Ron?"

"Admit that Lockhart was a fraud!"

Hermione huffed, "Of course he was a fraud! But he was a gorgeous fraud!" Ron only groaned theatrically as Harry chuckled, knowing that his friends would never change, would always be his friends.

"Well personally, I think I'm starting to grow on Professor Snape."

Hermione and Ron both snapped to attention at this, "What? Why?"

Harry smiled weakly as he looked out the window, seeing familiar countryside moving merrily along by now, "Because he doesn't treat me as The-Boy-Who-Lived, or even as a Gryffindor. I know now he hates me because of who I am, not what happened to me. So at least there's someone that remembers that Harry Potter wasn't born a Golden Boy."

Hermione huffed again, rolling her eyes as she put her hands on her hips, "Honestly, Harry! You really need to stop taking that celebrity stuff so hard, or you're going to be old and gray before you graduate!"

Harry only grinned weakly as Ron finally decided to change the subject, "So Harry, this year what do you say we get you away from your Aunt and Uncle early again?"

"What? Why?"

"Because! It's the Quidditch World Cup this year, and Dad can always get tickets! You can come! I already asked him and mum!"

Harry's eyes shined, "Really? Yeah, that sounds great!"

Ron's head bounced up and down a few times, "And I'll tell you what! I'll call you, at least once! I know how to use a Fellytone now!"

"_Telephone_ Ron! Really, _you_ should be taking Muggle Studies!"

Ron gave her a slightly more sour look, though his grin left for only a moment, "And _you_ should get out of it."

Hermione turned up her nose, "I have."

Ron stopped bouncing, staring at Hermione in almost abject shock, "You.. you did?"

"Yes. Next year I'll be able to have a normal schedule again. No more sneaking around with that blasted Time Turner or making my head spin being in two places at once." She actually gave the window a sour look at this, "More stress than it's worth, learning what 'switches' and 'buttons' mean."

Harry snorted, "Yeah, I can imagine how that could get boring. Do wizards really not know about switches and buttons?"

Hermione sighed, "Unfortunately so; seem not to care, I think. Not surprising, really, considering they have us using Quills rather than pens, or at the very least Fountain pens."

Ron gave the duo odd looks, but apparently shrugged it off, returning to his good mood, "Anyway Harry, I'll call you on the, er, Tellyfone, and then we can come and get you in time for the Cup, yeah?"

Harry liked the idea at first, but thought about it and shook his head, "I don't think you should call; even if you don't say who you are, he'll know you're from Hogwarts just because you asked for me. Uncle Vernon would probably rip the cord from the wall and try to feed it to me if he knew you could use it to call me."

Both Ron and Hermione seemed disgusted at this, Ron most vocally, "What? You can't be serious!"

Harry grinned mischievously, "No, I'm Harry!" He chuckled at the twin groans that produced, then shrugged, "I dunno if he'd actually do that, but he'd yell more than it's worth. The Dursleys are okay with magic existing so long as they don't have to see, hear, or know about it. Just mail me so they don't see and that should be okay."

Ron seemed disappointed, so Hermione looked at him and tried to cheer him up, "You can call me if you want, Ron. I'll give you my number here in a minute if you want?"

Ron smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I'm kinda itching to try that thing out; dad didn't enchant it or anything, so it'll be like a real Muggle thing!"

Hermione chuckled dryly, "Yes, I'm sure your father did a fine job wiring it up."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Are you kidding? He didn't wire it, though he _did_ drive the guy who did it almost batty, standing off to the side and acting like it was Christmas morning with everything he pulled out've that box." Harry laughed, being perfectly able to see that picture, though Hermione laughed more out of politeness than anything, having had little contact with the Weasley Patriarch.

She then looked out the window and perked up, "Harry, there's a little owl out there!"

Harry turned, and saw that there was, indeed, a tiny little owl trying to keep up with the train; it was so small and the letter it was carrying so large that it was bobbing frantically, being buffeted every which way by the train's slipstream. "Here, let me get the window open." Harry unlocked the latch and opened the window, whence the owl slipped inside and dropped its letter on Harry's lap, landing in his hand; it felt very much like a very fuzzy Snitch. Crookshanks gave the owl a hungry look and Ron immediately snatched it up protectively.

"Well, let's see... it's from Sirius!" Suddenly his face was glowing again, eagerly opening the letter and beginning to read it aloud.

Once he was finished, they'd determined that Sirius was well, the owl was Ron's, and that Sirius had gotten some very good use out of Harry's Invisibility Cloak. They found out that it had, indeed, been Sirius that'd sent Harry the Firebolt, which was part of why he was so keen to give it back, and in the Post Script was written a rather formal-seeming allowance from his Godfather for Harry to attend Hogsmeade weekends, which they all felt would be plenty good enough for Dumbledore. "It'll give me a chance to stretch out, as it were. I'll have to thank him next time I see him." He smiled brightly out the window, seeing the scenery in a suddenly new light.

Eventually the train came to a stop and they all disembarked; the Dursleys didn't seem happy to see him, but Harry was quite happy to see _them_. He was also very prepared to tell them about his great, thoughtful, caring, escaped-convict of a godfather. Their reaction was actually rather comical, when he thought about it.

Which he did, quite often.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 8<p>

* * *

><p>Here was originally a thing saying I was moving my Author-Notes to my bio. That didn't work out, so here's some place-holder text. lol<p>

And now:

* * *

><p>VERY IMPORTANT NOTICE!<p>

* * *

><p>Now that I've finished book three, which I consider to be a pretty big milestone in this story, I'm going to have to go through Book four before moving on, which will take some time, so I'm going to delay the next chapter by a week or two to get my head on straight. I may end up working as I read, but we'll see. When I get to Book Five it may well be an even longer wait, as a lot of things are slated to happen in book five and I'll have to really get some hard-core planning for that one when I get to it.<p>

Ooh! I just got a really killer idea! Oh-em-gee! Now I can't wait!

Oh well, best get to work. XD

_Edit: (8/8/2012) Did some spelling, checked for any punctuation errors (don't remember if I actually found any or not), and cringed at the scene-o-sap. I thought about removing it, but can't, if only because it's partially a nod to Pokemon, which at times is itself rather sappy. Oh well._

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	9. SideStories Part One

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

Pre-Notes: This isn't a chapter (warning), but instead a sort of sides-story. I'm writing it to fill in some gaps left by the main story, which may have left some questions unanswered and unclear. We'll start, appropriately, at the end.

* * *

><p>Side-Story 1 : Book 3, Arc One<p>

* * *

><p><strong>A Rat Untrapped<strong>

* * *

><p>Hermione cried vindictive, almost hurtful tears as she laid into Harry the only way a small, furry animal could; she might feel bad about biting him, later, but he seemed to have gotten the message, and his apology made her feel better. She was worried about him!<p>

The ground came up to greet her as Harry leaned down to let her go, but before he released her he whispered in her ear, "Stay like that for now, okay?"

She twitched an ear, looking back at him curiously, though no one seemed to notice the movement; what was that supposed to mean?

Though, when she looked over all the strange faces, and the fact that Ron was looking a bit as though he were mildly constipated, she thought that maybe staying as she was could be a good idea.

Though she also couldn't help but to take up position between them and Harry, feeling as though it was the best thing to do. Already Harry had had a wand pointed at him, and the man wrapped up on the floor suggested there had already been a fight; if another fight was going to break out, she would be involved you could guarantee that!

Unfortunately (fortunately?) there wasn't any more fighting to be had by that point, as apparently her appearance had settled the final major sticking point in whatever had been going on; she decided that she would bother Ron as to who all these people were later, but for now she settled to following Harry and the group of people, two of whom smelled a bit like dogs, out through the odd path back to the school.

It was a long path, and frankly the walk was rather boring; she got to hear a few stories, and thought she might tease Ron about being a pillow some other time. She even played with a spider in its web, simply because it was there! Of course it didn't play back, but that only meant that she lost interest in it pretty quickly. She tried to get Crookshanks to play with her, but he was too serious and boring to do any more than follow along behind them, quiet as a morning breeze and just as chilly, though he _did_ keep looking at her strangely...

Crookshanks knew that the strange animal was his master, he'd seen her transform before, and by now had seen her like that at least three times, this time the fourth. Each time, she seemed keen on getting him to 'play' with her, like a newborn kitten, or maybe a puppy.

His master's animal form confused him, to be honest; it wasn't quite a dog, but it wasn't quite a cat. In fact, it seemed to be a little bit of just about everything. He'd heard of Chimera's, though the word itself held no meaning for him; his master had spent quite a bit of time looking up Magical Animals, and Chimera's fit the bill. But unlike most Chimera's, this 'Eevee' seemed perfectly natural, rather than a poorly-designed mish-mash of bits and pieces from everywhere and nowhere; it was simply indescribable except to say that it belonged in-between everything else.

Of course, that didn't matter; no matter what she looked like, smelled like, or even acted like, she was his master, and he would protect her, however she needed it. He couldn't protect her from herself, as she didn't seem keen on listening to his impressive feline wisdom, which consisted mostly of 'slow down, go to sleep', but he could keep her safe from most things, especially while she was in that form, and at her most vulnerable.

Suddenly one of the large men gasped and ran away from nothing; this confused him, but he accepted it. Then the other man turned into a dog and ran off, followed by the boy that his master liked, as well, though he stayed long enough to tell his master to stay and guard the lumps of flesh on the ground. They could do that, and his master seemed keen on doing it, even stopping the other flesh-bag from disobeying the favored-one's orders; Crookshanks didn't care for the conversation, and didn't pay much attention to it, though it was unfortunate that its volume also drowned out the sounds of a rat making a break for it.

"Vee?"

"Hey, where'd Wormtail go?"

His master turned her large ears, larger even than his, toward the sounds that he was also now picking up; both of them took after it immediately. It was obvious that his master wanted to capture the thing, but she was both tired and had legs that were far too short to outrun such an agile, desperate piece of meat as that wicked rat who smelled, as the thin meat-bag had put it so aptly, like a bad dung-bomb.

His master, understandably, stopped trying to catch the rat once it was clear that Crookshanks was out pacing her.

"Vee! Ee~vee!"

He surged with determination. He didn't know exactly what she had said, having only learned the rudiments of English, so he didn't know that she had asked him not to kill it, but he understood that they had taken great pains to keep the obviously injured creature alive; look at the gratitude it showed, too!

Once he made it outside, still on the tail of the surprisingly fast rat, he noticed, then ignored the sounds of fighting dogs; one was a wolf, one was a dog, and one was a creature that wasn't quite totally a cat, though true to form the cat wasn't making much noise.

The rat seemed to notice the scuffle too, as it stopped just long enough to decide not to run that way, though the stop wasn't quite long enough for Crookshanks to get his paws on it. It darted between some roots and snarled plants that Crookshanks couldn't fit between, forcing him to take the long way around; that was fine, this chase was something he'd been looking forward to all year.

It went on like that for nearly two minutes, which felt like far too long to Crookshanks, but eventually it had to stop; he saw a chance as the rat ran into an open area, and he cornered it against a tree. Hissing angrily, he bit its back and held it down with one of his paws.

Unfortunately, this was no normal rat, and even a cat of Crookshanks' size couldn't hold down a full grown human male, "Get off me!" Crookshanks was thrown away, but he came back immediately, not letting the prey get away.

But a human is much harder for a single cat to control, or even slow down, than a rat; Crookshanks was, at best, able to get a few scratches and a bite in before the man suddenly twisted around and delivered a full-powered kick directly into Crookshanks' ribs, slamming him hard against a tree and producing a crack that didn't seem perfectly healthy.

"I've been waiting for this for a long time..." Crookshanks knew he no longer stood a chance; he would have to disappoint his master, but figured she would forgive him. She seemed to value his life more than his victory, so when the man pulled out a wand the cat prepared to make a hasty retreat.

The man was moments from casting a spell when something made him stop; Crookshanks didn't particularly understand why right away, but even he could feel the signature cold of a Dementor's approach. Not willing to attract the Dementors' attention, the man shrank back into a rat, running into several hollows.

Sensing opportunity, Crookshanks dove after the rat. Unfortunately, his injury combined with the untimely intervention of a berserking Werewolf prevented him from his victory.

He had to return, dragging nothing home. Hermione cried pitiably over him, worried over his safety long before the fact that he was without his prey, and that made him feel good. He had made a good choice with this master.

Even if she _did_ have a tendency to wrap tinsel around his head.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Because Snape Said So<strong>_

* * *

><p>Severus Snape, the Potions Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Head of House of Slytherin House sneered as he walked to the History of Magic classroom. He had just had a most... <em>pleasant<em> meeting with 'Professor' Lupin.

The man had seemed most scared. And as Lupin was a Werewolf, that meant that either his secret was in danger of 'getting out', or something very dangerous, and possibly deadly, had just happened.

Or he'd made some God-awful connection in that two-toned brain of his and gotten his furry little knickers in a knot, there was no telling with Werewolves sometimes.

Perhaps it shouldn't have surprised him, but when Snape stuck his head into the History of Magic classroom, curious as to what Lupin had most likely left mindlessly behind, what should he see other than Harry Potter, staring curiously at his wand?

"And What, pray tell, could you have possibly done to get Professor Lupin into such a hurry?"

Immediately, as though it was the honest truth, and as though Harry wasn't surprised by the question, he said "Almost kill myself, I think." Snape actually raised an eyebrow at this, noticing the disgruntled look the boy gave his wand, "And throw my wand, apparently."

Snape was struck for a moment, trying to fit the response into his world-view and having some amount of trouble. No wizard, even James Potter, would throw their wand for _anything_, let alone in a situation involving life and death; more wizards had to have their wands pried from cold, dead fingers, broken and with nary a spark of magic left in them, than was ever known to have thrown their wand, even if only to live.

Potter tried to edge around him, getting through the open door, but Snape automatically stopped him, "Just a moment, Potter, I'd like to have a word with you."

Harry looked up at him, face showing no emotion short of honest, child-like curiosity. For some reason that enraged him, "Okay."

Biting down his immediate response, Snape gestured for the boy to sit, "Sit." He, however, would remain standing; it was a subtle symbol of his power over the boy that he would remain in an upright position, while forcing Harry to sit.

Harry, however, managed to sit as though it were his idea the entire time. Snape should have been used to it by now, but it still annoyed him.

Scowling lightly, he fingered his robe and felt for a small glass vial that he kept with him any time he thought he might need it; with a Werewolf running loose, that time could be _any_ time, so this year he had it with him at _all_ times... and he _so_ longed to use it now.

Still, he was certain of his ability to 'read' people, so he felt he wouldn't need it now. Instead, he settled himself into an imposing posture, looking down his nose at the boy, "Potter..." He paused, organizing his thoughts; it was difficult to do so, however, as there were so many of them, and in the last few moments alone the Potter boy had dashed the previous ones, all while adding new ones. He did his best to dredge up his original reasons for wanting to confront the boy, and tried to use those now, "Your work in Potions are abysmal."

Harry seemed confused, and rightfully so, his work in Potions had _always_ been abysmal, from the moment he walked into those Dungeons, he was destined to get failing grades in that class. So why was this being brought up _now?_ "Professor?"

"Let me clarify. Your Potions work has become worse than even that of Mr. Longbottom. Need I remind you of our last lesson?"

Harry cringed. Good, so he wasn't immune to being told off. They had been doing the simplest, easiest, most brain-dead-simple potion known to Harry's current year, with only two magical ingredients and an end result that even Muggles would have use for. Longbottom had finished it well enough to get a passing grade. Harry's had boiled over the moment he added the second magical ingredient.

"Do you know why?"

From the look on his face, Snape knew that he didn't. He half expected the boy to claim he did, but either way Snape needed to vent on the boy, and now was the time to do it. "Your Nettles were perfectly chopped. Sugar perfectly sifted, water perfectly purified. All of the ingredients you used were near _perfect_. But you! _YOU!_ Managed to cause a cough suppressant to boil over! Without a flame! Do. You. Know. Why?" Harry finally shook his head no, "It should have been obvious, Potter." He spat the word, "The instructions _clearly_ stated that you were to wait until the color had turned red. Yours was still blue when you added the Nettles. Blue! You added a Magical ingredient to a potion that had no magical properties yet prepared to it! Because you were so impatient, the Nettles reacted too quickly, and as a result..."

"It exploded?"

Snape simmered for a moment, straightening back up and glowering down at the boy from over his nose. "You will be working with Mister Longbottom from now on. I am _loathe_ to think of what could happen if your _stupidity_ mixed with his, but at least with the two of you together, I can watch you more closely."

Harry seemed sufficiently cowed, "Yes Professor."

Snape held his gaze there for a moment longer, longing to snatch more answers from this little bit of questioning... but that was for another time. He had been given all he needed. He cared nothing for the boy; if he got himself killed, so long as it didn't happen in front of him, Snape would feel nothing.

Nothing short of the desire to dance on James Potter's grave. Wizard debt or not, he still despised the man.

"You may go."

"Thank you, Professor." He walked to the door, then stopped, looking back. "Professor?"

He sneered, only wanting him _gone_. "What is it?"

"Thank you." Then he was gone.

Snape sneered again. Why would that... that _brat_ be thanking him! He was doing what he, as a Professor, was meant to be doing! Pointing out falling performance, and addressing it! Not to mention putting the boy in his place. He should be HATING him!

Not thanking him.

Snape nursed a growing headache. 'I need to get back to my office. I believe I've got a Migraine curative somewhere...'

* * *

><p>In that scene, Snape was the only Professor to call Harry out on his changing performance. All the others simply waved it off, which Harry attributed to his 'celebrity'. Snape didn't, and earned Harry's thanks. Just don't tell Snape that.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>A Scene I Decided Existed At The Last Second<strong>

* * *

><p>So a new year had begun.<p>

Joy.

Another year of dealing with bratty children. Another year of cleaning up random, often magical, and far more often than was healthy _dangerously_ magical messes.

Joy.

Again, Headmaster Dumbledore had appointed a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And again, the choice happened to be of someone that was... _hardly_ worth being approved for _anything_.

Honestly, first a gibbering, cowardly fool; then an _incompetent_ gibbering cowardly fool who liked to smile too much, and now a Werewolf! It was as though Dumbledore were _trying_ to sabotage the Defense classes!

Oh well. So he was stuck teaching Potions for another year. It wasn't _so_ bad.

Alright, so it _was_ bad, but he would live with it for now.

Professor Severus Snape went over his materials, reviewing in his head what would turn, in time, into a lesson plan. He did this every year, even though the plans rarely changed all that much. He merely did it, _mostly_, to prepare himself for the utter disasters that his... _students_ would unleash on his dungeons. If he could spot when and where the Nettles would be added in such a way as to cause an explosion, he would be able to deal with it ahead of time, instead of issuing detentions to get the mess cleaned up.

Of course, he would normally only assist the Slytherin students outwardly, but even Longbottom's screw-ups got tiring after a while.

Finally, he had gone through all seven years' worth of schoolbooks, and finally pulled out the tome that he held as most valuable; the most valued tome, in Snape's opinion, in all of the School's library was _Most Potente Potions_.

And that was what he was reading now. Well, mayhap not _reading_, as that implied taking in the actual words, when he, in fact, had no need of taking in the words, having memorized every single one of them in every single place throughout the entire book.

His memory was like a steel trap, after all, which was why he was so... disturbed to find something that didn't belong. He wasn't surprised, as he was _never_ surprised... but he _was_ disturbed.

It looked as though someone had tampered with one of his favorite books.

Somewhere near the most dangerous portions of the book, right in there with the Polyjuice Potion, someone, some _jokester_ had stuffed several bits of parchment, as though trying to add to the book.

Except the pages didn't look like anything that belonged in any book, anywhere. Rather, it was as though someone had taken several pieces of paper, scribbled furiously on them, and put some small, crudely-drawn cartoon animals in the margins; one was some sort of dog with what he thought might be some sort of halo, and another was a childish pictogram of some sort of kitten, smiling stupidly with a tiny heart over it.

He pulled them out, disgusted. He used his wand over them, trying to divine if they had magical origins, but found nothing, and so simply threw them away.

Since he wasn't looking at the garbage bin he'd thrown them in, he didn't notice the sheets of paper burning away to nothing in a light blue flame.

Perhaps it was best he hadn't noticed.

* * *

><p>End Side-Stories One<p>

* * *

><p>There!<p>

As the title of that third one suggests, it was something I decided to stick in at the last second. It's canon (for this story, anyway), because it's true for this story, but although I had always known where the potion had come from, I had never bothered to write it down; that was always destined for later, if ever.

And yes, the sheets of parchment were meant only for the eyes of the Golden Trio; even Moaning Myrtle couldn't read them, though she never tried.

_Edit: (8/8/2012) Checked punctuation, inserted one (singular) space between a comma and the word following it, and removed most of the A/N, since most of it was unnecessary anyway._

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	10. A New Summer

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

* * *

><p>Chapter 9 : A New Summer<p>

* * *

><p>Harry Potter's return to Number Four, Privet Drive had been a rather... odd affair that third summer. Oh it hadn't been that strange for Harry himself, as he simply didn't want to notice anything out of order.<p>

Rather, it was the Dursleys who found Harry's state to be unnerving. Not because he was a wizard-in-training; far from it, in fact. Instead, they were simply puzzled and, frankly, a bit annoyed at Harry's announcement upon his return: He didn't want to hear any mention of the 'M' word, his school, or either of his parents for as long as he was there. Put simply, none of it existed. This, of course, gave the Dursleys quite the dilemma: Do they annoy and anger Harry by doing what he didn't want done, which happened to be exactly what _they_ didn't want from him? Or do they just ignore it and do as they always had, thus actually doing what Harry wanted them to? In the end none of them could actually make up their mind on the matter, so they just did what came natural to them: They became grumpy and did whatever they may well please, and if that meant Aunt Petunia complained about her sister on a daily basis, then so be it!

Harry on the other hand, had quickly fallen into the routine of doing the chores, staying quiet, and spending his alone time with his toys and, when possible, out exploring the streets. But to the Dursleys, Harry's silence was the most frightening thing of all. Not the hanging threat of Sirius Black coming to check on his godson, not the thought of having random Wizards coming by to call; no, the simple fact that Harry wanted to hear nothing of Magic had them all unnerved to the point of relative silence.

Well, except for Dudley, but he wasn't very bright so that was to be expected.

And true to his word, Harry had made no mention of magic, hadn't tried to do his homework, and hadn't so much as asked them a single question the entire time he was there.

The only part that had Harry unnerved were the dreams. They started out slowly enough, with a few random images that didn't make any sense to him, but when he started seeing Wormtail in them he began to pay attention.

The only conclusion that he could come to was that Wormtail had found a way to help his master come back, as had been prophesied, and he was being shown that information. More annoying was the tendency of his scar to hurt with a dull ache anytime one of his dreams woke him up.

He made notes of what he saw, but otherwise tried not to think about them. It simply wouldn't be healthy to worry too much about something he couldn't help.

He and Sirius had spent a bit of time writing each-other, the Owl Post flights being the only thing from the Magical world that Harry didn't mind, so long as the Dursleys didn't see it. Sirius' letters were nice, and the wide variety of birds that he sent to see him were a rather cool thing, though Hedwig seemed to not like having so many strange birds coming at all hours of the day.

A few days into vacation Dudley, who'd been forced onto a diet that he absolutely hated, chucked his PlayStation out the window, where it smashed against the ground; it was a dumb thing to do, seeing as he then was unable to play those silly, uber-violent games he liked to play to get his mind off things, but as he'd likely get a new one if he complained enough Dudley probably didn't care at all. Harry, in response to Dudley's fit, had been told to pick up the mess, whence he surreptitiously managed to spirit the wreckage off to his room, though he had no idea what he might do with it all.

It had rested in his room for quite some time, sitting in the trunk that he was now allowed to keep with him, courtesy the threat of Sirius Black's possible appearance should Harry not be treated well. For three days it sat in there, unseen but known about, taunting Harry with an idea that he hadn't yet fully formed, teasing him with images and thoughts he didn't quite manage pull from his mind to get proper hold of.

On the fourth day he spent some time just after breakfast just sitting there, staring at the broken device as it sat on the floor beside his bed. He stared and stared and stared. He just could not, for the life of him, figure out exactly what about it drew him to it...

So he tried to figure it out. 'It's Dudley's PlayStation; Uncle Vernon would probably shout at me if he knew I took it, even if it is broken. Don't even know why I took it, I'm just staring at it now. ... So... what is it? It's a sort of computer you play games with... well, it used to be, not really useful for that anymore. Mmm, well it's a Muggle thing... and it's broken. Wonder if one could fix it with magic. Wonder if that's illegal? I'll have to ask Mr. Weasley. 'Course he'd go absolutely mad with glee if I gave it to him, so maybe I should. Anyway, it's a muggle thing... maybe I could learn to fix it?'

Harry blinked, there was something about that thought that tickled something in his mind. It was just on the tip of his tongue... Or mind, or whatever.

Muggles. Wizards... Harry sort-of belonged to both worlds. He could probably try to bring the two together. Like Miss Cynthia.

'Hmm, that's it! I've got it!' Harry grinned, bounding to his feet; he transformed into Flash and scurried to the wreckage, looking it over with new eyes, 'That's it, isn't it! I learn Wizard stuff at Wizard school in the Wizard world, I should learn Muggle stuff here in the Muggle world! This is a motor, it probably spins the discs I've seen Dudley stick in there; this is, well it's got metal sticking to it so it's obviously a magnet. Ohh, I need something to read about it! I wonder if I've got anything in my trunk!' Suddenly he hopped to his trunk and disappeared inside, rummaging noisily inside and thrusting toys out on the floor until he found what he was looking for, crawling back out and putting it on the floor in front of him as he looked it over; being just a bit before lunchtime the sun was still shining into his room, so he was perfectly able to see the writing in gold leaf on the cover of the book, _Electronic Theory and Practice: A Beginner's Guide_.

Ron might have scoffed at it being called 'A Beginner's Guide', as it was thick enough to kill a Rat just by setting it over top one, but Harry had once thought it might be interesting reading. When it'd been on auction once the previous summer he'd bought it on a whim, using a bit of his money from his vault; apparently no one in Diagon Alley really wanted something so obviously Muggle, but Harry was glad for it because as he opened the pages to look them over, he found that it really was, in fact, a beginner's guide. It started at the very basic levels, speaking about circuits, charges, and what happened to those electrical forces when they were pushed through various shapes and types of materials. The third chapter finally taught about batteries and cells, later moving on to induction current and, at around the fifth chapter, it showed a simple project that Harry wondered if he'd be able to pull off with the materials handy.

Though after looking it over he decided that, no, he would still need to buy a few things of his own; the Dursleys wouldn't be likely to let him rip wiring out of their things, though they'd probably give him a toilet paper tube. He could probably scrounge up a piece of wood in the garbage cans around the area, and who knew if he'd be able to find a razor blade or not. Pencils weren't hard to come by, but perhaps most inconveniently the Dursleys only had the wrong kind of push-pins, though he wondered if he'd be able to use paper clips instead.

By the next morning he'd completed everything that was needed for his simple experiment; with little more than some wire he'd purchased with less than the muggle equivalent of a Sickle, a razor blade, pencil, and some other little bits he'd salvaged here and there he had created, with his own two hands, a fully functional, albeit painfully simple radio capable of picking up crude, talk-radio programs. He'd been reluctant to destroy the PlayStation more than it already was and so been forced to buy the wire from a parts store, but it'd been worth it, as the sense of accomplishment filled him with a happiness he hadn't had in quite a while. He wondered, idly, if salvaged wire would be an even greater accomplishment, though it would require a specific kind and quality, so it'd probably have to come from an old motor or something. Which, if he managed to scrounge up a good-enough sized one he'd also get some magnets in the deal, and maybe some gear works if he was lucky.

And from there the next three weeks were full of much of the same; contrary to his previous experience with the Dursleys, this year they hardly so much as looked at him, let alone giving him a hard time and didn't seem keen on talking much other than Aunt Petunia complaining to the Kitchen counters about her sister, or Dudley making fun of him from across the street, so it was of little surprise that he hadn't even thought about Ron's offer for all that time. It'd only been brought to his attention when he got an owl tapping at his window one day; he'd just been eating at a cake he'd gotten for his birthday when Ron's new, minute owl showed up carrying a letter.

He pulled the letter from the little owl's grasp and it started flying about in incredible, hyperactive circles while chattering about how much fun the journey had been and how he hoped to do it again, among a few other things that all amounted to hyperactive celebrating; Hedwig merely clicked her beak reprovingly, not even bothering to really say anything to the little owl.

Trying to ignore the little fuzz-ball, Harry opened the letter and began reading.

_Harry,_

_ It's me, Ron. DAD GOT THE TICKETS! The game is this monday, Ireland versus Bulgaria! I suppose you'd better ask the muggles yourself if you can go; it was a good thing you nixed me calling you by tellyfone. I called Hermione and she says I nearly shouted her ear off, then SHE wouldn't stop yelling at me about it, says if I did that with your uncle you'd probably get booted out. It'd be an improvement, really, but I don't want to get you in trouble. That's the same reason I told mum not to send you something by Muggle post, so I figured I'd give Pig a workout and send you a letter with him. Told him not to be seen, to just go to your room when no one was around, but I dunno if he'll be any good at following instructions like that, I have a hard enough time keeping him from trying to sleep on my face._

Harry looked with some amusement at the little owl zooming around the light fixture. "Pig" indeed. And what was that about sleeping on Ron's face? Just the image had Harry laughing internally.

_Anyway, Harry, go ask the muggles if you can go, and if they say yes send Pig back with the answer and we'll come pick you up at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no send Pig back and we'll come and pick you up at five o'clock on Sunday anyway._

_ Hermione's arriving later this afternoon. Percy's started work – Department of International Magical Cooperation. While you're here don't mention anything about Abroad unless you want the pants bored off you._

_ See you soon,_

_ Ron._

Harry grinned lightly; it looked like his vacation from the magical world was coming to an end soon, but the way of it would at least be pleasant, again. "Well, Pig, guess I'd best get it over with. I'll ask them, send you back with their answer, and start cleaning."

'Pig' heard this and was nearly sent into a true frenzy, "_YAY! Another new job! I get to carry letters and fly around and it'll be hard but it'll be good I get to carry letters again! I can't wait, I love flying and I love working, this is the best day of my life! Maybe I'll-_"

Hedwig seemed to sigh with discontent at the display, turning her head so she wouldn't have to see it as Harry chuckled, heading out of the room for what would promise to be a real battle of wits, with him facing an unarmed man.

He found the Dursleys in their normal places; Dudley was in his room, killing zombies on his new PlayStation, Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen fussing over a sheet of paper with Dudley's diet plan on it, and Uncle Vernon was in the Living Room watching something loud on the television, something involving cars if Harry judged the noise correctly.

Harry quietly crept up to stand beside his uncle's chair, waiting for a few moments for Vernon to notice him on his own. Once he had the large, purpling man sneered, "And what do _you_ want?"

"I need to ask if it's alright to leave early this year."

Vernon seemed to snort, "And why would I allow you to do that?"

Harry shrugged, "Don't know, but I was hoping to get to see my Godfather before going back to school; he's probably going to see me either way, says the letters aren't enough, I suppose."

Vernon actually purpled a little bit more, eyes flashing dangerously as he sneered, spittle coming from between his tightly clenched teeth, "And... _when_ will you be leaving?"

Harry nodded, "Monday at five is when they're going to pick me up."

Vernon seemed to consider this for a moment, a look of distaste in his eyes as he did so until he suddenly, slowly smiled, "Well then you'd best get packed right away; the _rest_ of us will be leaving for London for a few days, and you'll be staying with Mrs. Figg until they come get you, understood?"

Harry's heart thumped a bit in his chest, having not quite expected that one, "Yes, sir."

"Go, you're making me miss my program." Harry nodded and quietly slipped out, returning to his room where he quickly scribbled up a note for Ron.

_Ron, they said I can go, but they're sending me to Mrs. Figg's to wait for you; she lives right next door, okay? -Harry_

He then folded up the note and gave it to Pig, "Take this right to Ron, alright?"

"_Yes mister! Yes mister, I'm going! I'm working, here I go!_" The little owl then zoomed out the open window and quickly disappeared against the sky.

Harry then wrote up a second, slightly longer letter to Sirius-

_Sirius,_

_ I'm going to be going to the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasleys in a couple of days. Then I'll be living with them for the rest __of the summer if you need to contact me._

_ Harry_

He folded this letter up and gave it to Hedwig, "Now take this straight to Sirius, and then I'll be with the Weasleys when you come back, alright?"

"_Of course._" Hedwig nipped his finger affectionately and then quietly flew off, expressing an extra layer of decorum as though showing how the owl post was Supposed to be carried out.

He then set out to clean up all his things and be ready to leave by that afternoon; he could sense Uncle Vernon talking to Aunt Petunia already, and though Petunia was whispering hushed things in a heated tone, Vernon was abstinent. Harry reasoned that, Quidditch Cup or not, he didn't want to be around when a family of wand-wavers showed up.

* * *

><p>"Wow, so he's a Kneazle? My friend Hermione's got a cat, name's Crookshanks, and he's half Kneazle. They're pretty hard to get, though, aren't they?"<p>

Mrs. Figg nodded with a small smile, "Of course they are, but I suppose now you know why I was always so proud to have him. I think I told you already that his mum belongs to my sister, I suppose I just never told you she lived in Hogsmeade."

"Really? Why are you living in Surrey then? Not a very interesting place to live for a witch."

Mrs. Figg flushed, an unhappy, embarrassed, almost shamed look crossing her face as she looked away, "Well I was actually meant to keep an eye on you for Dumbledore, to be sure the Muggles didn't... do anything they shouldn't have. But I'm not actually a witch, I'm a Squib. It means my parents were both magical, but I'm not myself."

Harry's eyes suddenly unfocused, suddenly seeming miles away, "Huh... wonder how that works..."

Mrs. Figg sighed, "There's nothing to be done for it, now, what time is it? I suppose it's almost time to start your supper; and remember, if they inquire, you had a miserable time here, alright? They'll stop sending you to me if they think you liked it."

Harry grinned, "Of course. So are you and Professor Dumbledore pretty close?"

She smiled a small smile, "We keep in touch. Professor Trelawney get off the table!" She approached the dining table in something of a huff, driving off a lanky brown female cat with specks of green on its head, named after a certain Professor at Hogwarts.

"I had Professor Trelawney last year." Harry smiled softly in remembrance, "I won't be taking Divination this year, though. Switched to Arithmancy."

Mrs. Figg nodded, giving the rest of her cats a lazy, daring eye, "Yes, I can imagine; she probably prophesied your death on a daily basis, didn't she? Haven't had much contact myself, spent more time in Potions than anywhere else."

Harry looked at the woman oddly, "You went to Hogwarts?"

She sighed, moving off to the kitchen, "Yes, well." She entered the kitchen and stopped talking long enough to hiss something to another one of her many cats, something that sounded a bit too much like "Get off her!", bang some pots about and return, "Yes, I went to Hogwarts, but I wasn't 'accepted' as most are; I was able to afford to simply take a few classes, those few that Squibs are able to do such as potions and Care of Magical Creatures. Speaking of, I hear your friend Hagrid has taken on that particular role?"

Harry grinned, "Yeah, he's brilliant, too."

She smiled, "Well, say what you will but the man cares more than nearly anyone else I know."

Nodding, Harry reached out to scratch the head of a nearby orange tabby cat, "Malfoy doesn't make it easy, though; most of the year it seemed like he was trying to get Hagrid sacked."

"Wouldn't surprise me. Oh that's the tea." She returned from the kitchen a few moments later with a full setting of tea in shining silver, one of the few shiny things in the whole house, as the rest of it was very dark and often downright dirty, "Well help yourself, I'm going to be working for the next few minutes." She then scurried off to the kitchen where she spent the next half-hour calling to her 'babies' and feeding them with what seemed like hundreds of cans of cat food, much of which gave off smells that Harry picked up on, which threatened to drive him mad with hunger.

Mrs. Figg returned from the kitchen to find Harry trying to sneak a look inside, which made her raise an eyebrow, "Hungry, dear?" Harry had the decency to blush, nodding, "Well it'll be only a few more minutes. Wasn't sure what to make, so I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will."

Mrs. Figg nodded and looked around the room, "Well, I suppose if you're leaving again tomorrow there's no point in putting your things away; I'll just find a blanket to put over it all to keep the hairs out. I love them all to death, but cat hair is almost impossible to get out without magic." Harry only nodded, still sneaking looks toward the kitchen. "Get off of there! Honestly, going to get hair in that owl's cage. Beautiful thing, by the way Harry. What's her name?"

"Hedwig. Hagrid gave her to me."

She smiled lightly, "Beautiful name for a beautiful owl. Now then, I'll be right back."

Harry nodded absently and a few minutes later Mrs. Figg came from the kitchen carrying a tray of several bowls, including one very large bowl filled with some sort of meat hash covered in melted cheese with corn chips sticking out of it, "Got this from a relation overseas; calls it 'Tex Mex', which I suppose means it comes from where Texico and Mexas are."

Harry laughed, "Texas and Mexico. It smells really good, but how do you eat it?"

After a minute of learning about how to properly hold the chips, scoop up the salsa and extra cheese, and an admission that he could simply use a fork or spoon to eat it however he wanted, Harry dug in and smiled; it was pretty good!

That night he slept in a guest room where an old portrait of Mrs. Figg's mother was hung; apparently the old portrait had wanted to talk to him so badly over the years, but was forbidden. The two of them talked for quite some time until Harry was told to turn out the light.

The next day Harry simply found himself feeling a bit shut in, so he passed some time with his technology book and some random experimentation. Mrs. Figg was interested in the experiments, largely owing to her common use of them, but admitted that it was all very far beyond her understanding; she held no hope at all of understanding how a bunch of wire can pick words out of the air without even a little bit of magic.

"Oh, I was thinking about that, but I don't want to look it up until I get back to Hogwarts. But I think electricity might be a sort of magic, which would explain why it doesn't work right _in_ Hogwarts!"

She frowned, "So... Muggles are using magic?"

Harry shrugged, "Sort of, maybe. Most Lodestones are really just natural magnets, so Muggles make Lodestones that are dozens of times more powerful than the best natural ones every day in big factories. Though I wonder if maybe there might be something missing from them." Harry shrugged noncommittally, vowing to put more thought into the possibility at a later date.

As time went marching forward Lunch came and went, Harry continued reading and trying to learn, he took a self-imposed test from the book; he learned about Capacitors and the different ways they worked and got an overview of how those workings affected the outcome in the final machine. By the time Five o'clock rolled around Harry was getting rather bored and had decided to lay off on the book for a bit, instead taking to lounging about on the couch, largely surrounded by cats.

Which, in fact, was the scene that Mr. Weasley walked in on when the fireplace suddenly flared to life; he was followed by Fred and George, then by Ron. Mr. Weasley smiled almost conspiratorially before saying, in a carrying voice, "Well, are you ready to go then?"

Harry opened an eye to look at Mr. Weasley, yawned, then rolled into a sitting position before standing, stretching lazily, then giving the Weasley family a slow look, "Nnn? 'S five already?"

Fred laughed, "Yeah, been sleeping long?"

Harry shrugged, "Not too long, anyways my things are under that cloak in the corner; keeps the hair out I guess." He walked over and pulled the cloak off, folding it up before leaving it on a nearby table as the twins strode up beside him, each taking one end of his trunk in hand.

"Ready Gred?" "Certainly Feorge." And with that they lifted it, "Meet you at-" "-our place, Harry." And with that they were off, walking through the Fireplace, which was likely still 'dialed' to The Burrow.

Ron rolled his eyes as Mr. Weasley chuckled, "Well can't say as I can argue; if the Muggles had stuck around those two would have likely tried to prank them. Been driving their mother batty with plans to open some sort of joke shop after they graduate; don't be too surprised if you hear her yelling at them about it."

Ron rolled his eyes as he picked Hedwig's cage up from the floor, "Hey, where's Hedwig?"

"Off delivering a letter. She's pretty fast, though, so I wouldn't be surprised if she's already on her way back."

With a grin and shake of the head, Ron picked up a book that'd been left under the cage, giving it an odd look, "What's this? Looks pretty old."

Harry laughed, "It's not, was published year before last. It's a Beginner's Guide in Muggle electrical engineering; been reading it all summer." Harry gave an amused look to Mr. Weasley, who was eying the book curiously, "Which reminds me, when we get to your place I've got a few things I want to show you."

If at all possible the curious look on Mr. Weasley's face was amplified nearly ten times, "Do you now? Best get a move on, then!"

A voice from the stairs nearby stopped him, though, "Going without even saying hello, Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley stiffened slightly, then seemed to loosen into a nervous laugh, "Ah! Bella, how are you? I trust life in Surrey is to your liking?"

"I suppose you could say that." She gave the man a dry look, "And how is your 'government' work going?"

"Haha, well, I've been busy enough lately, with all that's been going on."

"I see. And the Ministry rewarded you with tickets to this 'game' of yours, then?"

"Ah, I suppose you could say that; I'd have tried to get them on my own, of course, but I suppose Fudge is apologizing for all the circles we've all been running after Sirius Black."

"I see. And when were you planning on telling me about this?"

"Well I only just now got your Fireplace reconnected to the Floo network..."

"Well in the future I'd appreciate it if you, _any_ of you, could manage to think of me from time to time. Goodness knows I could afford to get out of the house from time to time! Honestly, Arthur, if not for Dumbledore I might've been convinced the rest of the world had just dropped off the map!"

Ron sidled up beside Harry as the two of them watched the exchange, "So, Harry, how's it goin'?"

"Not too bad. Kinda liked getting away for a while, but I'm looking forward to seeing a professional game for the first time."

Ron grinned brightly, "Yeah, it's gonna be a blast; Professional teams are nothing like the ones at school. Even the worst Professionals could pick the best team Hogwarts has to pieces without even trying. I'm telling you, they've even _all_ got Firebolts, so it'll go in a flash, just like that!"

Harry chuckled, "Wish I could come and go in a 'Flash'." He laughed as Ron gave him an odd look, taking a moment for the reference to sink in.

"Oh, right. Still, I bet we'll have a hard time just watching it without missing something; I can't wait!"

Right about then Mrs. Figg came into the room, carrying her silver platter of silver tea settings, "Well I can't have you leave without at least a bit of tea."

"Oh but I couldn't possibly stay around for too much longer when I've already set the Twins off."

Mrs. Figg nodded decisively, "Well then take it with you, all of it. You can give Molly some as well, and whoever else wants any."

Ron blinked at this, "But what about the cups?"

She smiled lightly, "Oh don't worry about that, dear, I'm sure they'll make it back here eventually."

Mr. Weasley sighed with a light shake of the head, "Alright I'll take it with me, just don't expect Molly to have any; you know how she is. I expect the twins might have some just to annoy their mother, of course, but I just know I'm never going to hear the end of it for this."

"Oh don't worry about that, and Arthur..." Mrs. Figg pulled the younger man to a huddle, where she whispered at a low volume into his ear, "Make sure Harry has some; he hasn't had a drop since coming over." Harry reckoned that she was trying to keep this bit a secret from him, but he heard it just fine, grimacing at the woman's conspiratorial tone.

"Right, well alright, I'll be sure to take care of it. Off we go, then! Ron, you got what you need? Harry all cleaned up? Good!" Mr. Weasley pulled a pouch from his robe and extracted a pinch of powder from it, throwing it in the fire while saying clearly, "The Burrow!" He then took the setting from Mrs. Figg with a nod before gesturing the boys through the now green flames, "Go on ahead, I'll be right behind."

Ron pulled his friend through with hardly a roll of the eyes, Harry reluctantly following.

Harry hadn't had good luck with the Floo network so far, and this journey, while perhaps a bit more stable, didn't disappoint too much, as the headache it gave him was enough to make him feel as though he were spinning and falling at the same time, even though he knew, logically, that he was standing on ground quite firm. He only just managed not to fall on his face, though he was at least able to remember to get out of the way before Mr. Weasley came through after him.

He'd just barely gotten his bearings before Mrs. Weasley was upon him, almost crushing him with a strong hug, "Oh Harry! It's good to see you again, I was almost afraid the Floo had closed forever, what took you so long?"

Mr. Weasley came through, looking chagrined, "Arabella, apparently, wanted to have a chat with me. I'm sorry, Molly, I tried to say no but you know how she is." He held up the tea setting, the sight of which caused his wife to go into a dreadful huff, nearly running her into a storm of complaints.

"Honestly! That woman, sending her entire setting to another woman's house? I don't know what sort of manners they taught in her day, but, ohhh!" She sighed, "Arthur pour me a cup."

It took a moment for this to process, and then Harry frowned with confusion and looked at the Weasley Matriarch, "Wait, what?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded decisively, "Well it's not in very good taste, but she _does_ make rather good tea." She then looked Harry over as Mr. Weasley poured a bit of tea into one of the cups, shaking his head slowly, "Speaking of, I dare say you need more than tea in you, Harry; you're dreadfully thin, haven't those Muggles been feeding you?"

Harry grinned, "Dudley's on a diet, so the rest of us are as well. I got more from that cake you sent for my birthday than for every meal all month."

This had the expected result of Mrs. Weasley going into a momentary uproar over 'those horrible Muggles' and her retreat to the kitchen, muttering about extra portions as Ron gave Harry a disturbed look.

"You do realize she's going to be stuffing you silly now, right?" Harry only laughed.

* * *

><p>Supper that night had to be held in the garden, as the addition of Hermione, Harry, and the eldest Weasley brothers Bill and Charlie, both of whom had shown up for a visit, made it so that there were simply too many people for the dining room to hold all at once.<p>

Though it was truly the first time he'd ever met them, Harry really felt as though he'd known Bill and Charlie for his entire life; true he didn't have the same level of camaraderie as they did amongst their own family, but being with them was far more comfortable than it ever had between he and the Dursleys. Charlie was a bit more stockily built than Ron or Percy, both of whom were long and lanky, and his hands were calloused from hard work, burn marks on his arms and the smell of smoke in his hair; it was obvious that he was the brother who worked with dragons, and thus there was no mistaking him for anyone else.

The eldest brother, however, wasn't exactly what Harry had been expecting; when he'd heard Bill described he'd always drawn comparisons to Percy: Bill had been Head Boy, just like Percy. Bill had gotten very high marks, like Percy. Bill had gone on to have an important post with Gringotts, where Percy had taken a post in the Ministry of Magic.

But unlike Percy, the words 'joke' and 'laugh' actually had meaning to Bill, and even more unlike Percy Bill's dress was... well, cool, relaxed, and in the face of their mother, his ponytail was downright rebellious.

"And I wish he'd cut it, it's undignified!"

"I love you too, mum."

"Well can't you at least take off that silly earring?"

"Sorry mum, but I'm afraid they wouldn't recognize me if I took it off!" He sighed dramatically, "Then I'd be out on the street! Begging and crying, oh the shame of it! Fired because of an earring!"

"Fine, be that way, but you can't say I didn't warn you; you'll never be married at this rate!"

Bill grinned with a small laugh, "But mum, haven't you heard? Girls _dig_ the rebellious man these days! I can hardly keep them at arms length anymore!" Harry laughed, picturing Bill standing out in the middle of the street fighting with all his might to keep a throng of girls from burying him in a pile of hair and twisted legs.

Of course, he then lost that battle and was buried in a pile of hair and twisted legs, which quickly mutated to a very... odd scene...

The curious look that Bill gave him when he saw Harry's expression finally snapped him from his imaginings, and in response he was only able to shrug and shake his head back and forth, as though banishing the thought. Bill didn't seem curious enough to press further, so Harry was saved from having to explain why he had nearly had a rampaging blob of hair and legs going through the countryside of his mind, terrorizing imaginary farmers and generally being a nuisance.

There was other talk at the tables, of course, but Harry had no mind for thin-bottomed cauldrons or that 'other thing' that Percy was going on about, and though the talk about how the various Quidditch teams had fared that year was interesting, and quite informative for Harry, who'd been holed up in the Dursleys for the whole summer up to that point, he still couldn't help but feel a bit anxious.

"So what've you been up to all summer, Harry?"

Finally, the question of the day and Harry's grin told it all, "I've, er, been studying." He wasn't sure, but being coy about it seemed right at just that moment.

"Really? Been keeping up on your homework then?"

Suddenly he felt almost ashamed, "Er, not from, that is, not studying _magic_."

Bill, for some reason, seemed to be the one most curious, "Oh really?" He leaned forward, crooking his hands together as a curious smile played across his lips, "Then what _were_ you studying?"

Harry smiled easily, looking Bill straight in the eye as he said, in a straight, matter-of-fact tone, "Electrical Engineering."

To Bill and Percy the only word that had made sense was 'Engineering', which to them meant 'hard, complicated work'; Mr. Weasley understood the 'electrical' part, but Hermione picked up on the whole thing, "What? Harry, what do you mean, electrical engineering?"

Harry chuckled, "Well, I've got a radio I made from bits of wire and a pencil, and a weird device that I'm not really sure how to call; I'd have to show you it."

Mr. Weasley's eyes brightened at the mention of a radio, but for the most part Harry's declaration was met with odd, dubious looks from all quarters, "So, Harry," Mr. Weasley licked his mouth, as though incredibly thirsty for something and too nervous to say so, "This... radio of yours, you have it with you?"

Harry grinned, "May I be excused for a moment?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed, recognizing the look in her husband's eye, "Of course, dear." Harry left for the house, quickly returning with armfuls of odd knick-knacks that almost made Mr. Weasley go into a frenzy.

Harry placed one thing, a board carrying bits and pieces that wouldn't look out of place in a garbage bin, on the table. The rest he put on his abandoned chair, devoting his attention to the radio, "I haven't had a chance to get it out here, so I don't know if the magic here will interfere with it but back at the Dursleys I listened all one afternoon to some show about some guy in the streets, who was carrying around a sign saying 'the end is near' and apparently disrupting traffic." He chuckled as Ron rolled his eyes as Harry stuck a little speaker up close to his ear, playing with what looked like the broken-off end of an old yellow pencil.

"Harry what _is_ all this junk? Why are you carryin' this around with you?"

Harry shrugged, "Well I'm part wizard, but I figure I also kind of live in the Muggle world, so I ought to learn about stuff in the Muggle world, too."

Hermione flashed a smile, which didn't disappear even when she gave her friend a concerned look, "But Harry couldn't you have learned something a little less... well, complicated?"

Ron snorted, "Says Miss Overachiever." Hermione only huffed in response as Mr. Weasley came to huddle around Harry, who shook his head.

"I dunno, Hermione, but the Dursleys had me picking up Dudley's broken PlayStation and looking at it, I dunno, guess I just wanted to learn about this kind of thing." He smiled as he gingerly pressed the pencil point to a small section of the razor blade and heard, very faintly, an almost imperceptible voice; after a few more ginger pressings he found the 'sweet spot', as it were, and was able to hear the voice quite clearly; something about someone clearing out a forest for something. "There we go!"

Mr. Weasley was practically beside himself as Bill and Charlie tried to act suitably interested, "Can, can I have a go?"

Harry nodded, "It's pretty sensitive, but it works; the book says soldiers used to make them out in their Foxholes to pass the time. I think it's impressive they could make something that works so well while they're being shot at just from ripping some wires out of broken down trucks and some broken stationary." He laughed at the thought; those guys were pretty resourceful.

Mr. Weasley put his ear to the speaker and his eyes widened when he heard the voices, "Marvelous! And not even a lick of magic?"

"No more than any Muggle could use. It hasn't got an amplifier so it's pretty hard to hear-"

"No no! This is incredible! I was never able to get any of the radios _I've_ got to work! I could never figure them out! And here you've _made_ one!"

Harry grinned, "And here's some of that other stuff," He picked up a pile of things barely held in what looked like a big gray box, "This is what's left of Dudley's PlayStation. I think it's still too complicated for me to try to fix, but I thought you might get a kick out of it, even if it _doesn't_ work."

Hermione looked at the pile of stuff as Mr. Weasley hovered excitedly over it, "Harry, what do you mean, 'PlayStation'?"

Harry grinned, "It's a sort of computer you play games on. Thing is they aren't in stores yet; Uncle Vernon bullied some overseas fellow to send him one ahead of time, then Dudley goes and throws it out the window because he was mad about his diet."

"So this, this-" Mr. Weasley pointed at the wreckage with a shaking, excited finger, "This is an 'IBM'?"

Harry shrugged, "I bet they've got a hand in it, but it's mostly Sony, I think. Like this piece here?" He sifted through the hundreds of little transistors and resistors and other little doo-dads, finally picking one out to show Mr. Weasley, "This one is by 'Mitsubishi', and that one is made by some company I couldn't read 'cause the name's just a bunch of squiggly lines, and this other one was broken in half and I never found the other one, but it starts with the copyright symbol so it's got to be important somehow."

Fred and George rolled their eyes as they spoke in teasing tones, "Great, just what the world needs," "Another Dad." "The wizarding world will," "Never be the same."

Charlie grinned, "Yeah, instead it'll be buried in wire and piles of batteries, right?"

Mr. Weasley blushed, "Hey, I collect batteries, is there anything wrong with that?"

Suddenly Harry perked up, "Are any of them still any good?" The sudden question made Mr. Weasley jump a bit in surprise.

"Any good at what?"

"Do they still have any juice."

"Well, I guess some of them probably have juice in them, but I was never able to figure out what it was for." Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"He means do they still have power in them. Where did you get them? Did you buy them, or did you find them in the trash or something?"

Mr. Weasley though, "Well most of them I got out of old radios, but I suppose most of them had been thrown away."

Harry nodded, "Maybe that's why your radios didn't work, if the batteries were dead they couldn't make them run."

Ron gave Harry a queer look, "Harry, they aren't alive to begin with, and I don't think those things are _Supposed_ to run anywhere." Harry only laughed as Mr. Weasley looked around a bit.

"So, d'you suppose if I got some, ah, alive batteries then the radios might work?"

Harry's face took on a gleam not unlike that of Mr. Weasley's, "Can I see them?" The two them went off in search of Mr. Weasley's workshop.

At the head of the table, Molly Weasley sighed with exasperation, "Oh, Arthur."

Bill laughed aloud, "Hey, don't worry mum, I'm sure Harry won't be bringing any Muggle neighbors over for visits like dad used to."

Charlie laughed in response, "Yeah, he's got his own place for that." Mrs. Weasley only sighed, looking very defeated as the rest of the table reacted in their own ways, largely resulting in a group sigh.

* * *

><p>That night found Harry playing with his things, along with a few bits and pieces donated to him by Mr. Weasley, including a large motor that he said had once been part of an old car; apparently it hadn't fit in the Anglia so he had simply kept it, along with a spare car battery that'd been half drained of its acid and was no longer any good. Harry suspected it might be too dangerous to do anything with the battery until he had a better idea of what he was doing, but the motor was something he was glad for.<p>

He attached a big cranking handle to it, hooked its terminals to some wires with light bulbs and things strung together, and gave it a few good turns; the bulbs lit up, and then burst.

'Too much juice, then. Bet this is twelve volts, but I can only guess at the amps. Do I have any twelve volt bulbs?' He inspected the bulbs he'd strung to the motor and winced at one that'd burned to a particularly thick black, the glass almost looking like it would burst, 'Wow, no wonder.' He inspected it and found the ratings etched minutely on the glass, 'Three volts. Probably vaporized the filament.'

After rummaging around a little longer he found several small bulbs rated at twelve volts, strung them up, and cranked the motor; they all lit up and gave Harry quite a grin. True they weren't getting very bright, but as he was currently cranking the motor by hand he imagined that faster cranking would be the ticket.

Ideas forming, he found a tablet of paper he'd 'borrowed' from an old cupboard outside the Dursley's Living Room, opened it to a fresh page and started scribbling away, numbers and symbols appearing on the page almost as though by magic as his hand flew across the page.

The notebook itself was fairly old, having been bought just when Dudley was first being sent off to school; Aunt Petunia had been convinced that they needed to be prepared for her 'Bright Little Boy's education, and thus had bought nearly an entire drawer-full of College-Ruled paper, most of which had been used as spit-wad material. Still, the forgotten nature of Dudley's old supplies meant that the Dursleys wouldn't notice them being gone, so Harry couldn't argue over the pointlessness of it.

"Harry?" Ron approached from the rear, rubbing his eyes sleepily and eying his projects, "What are you doing down here? You can't be serious about that stuff!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, Ron, I'm serious. And this is a motor I'm using as a generator; it's twelve volts, and I'm trying to figure out the amps so I can figure out what kind of transformers I'd need. Way I think it works is the faster I crank it the more amps it's got, so I'm trying to use how it's rated to figure out how many cranks per minute makes how many amps. Problem is I can't just crank it at one speed for very long, but I figure building it for the maximum should work."

Ron stared at Harry for a minute, gave his open notebook a long, tired stare, then decided he wasn't smart enough to understand his friend anymore and shook his head, "Whatever mate, just so long as you get back to normal when we go back to Hogwarts."

Harry laughed, "Yeah, but I'll just be trading Electrical Engineering for Arithmancy."

Ron snorted, crossing his arms haughtily, "Hey, I'm not smart enough to understand either one, but at least I know what Arithmancy is _for_! _This_ stuff is, is..."

"The basis for the Muggle answer to Magic."

Ron threw his arms out, "Exactly! Harry, you've already _got_ magic! Why d'you wanna do it the Muggle way, too?"

Harry grinned, "Because I can. And besides, you have to respect the Muggles who came up with this stuff."

"What? Why?"

Harry nodded, looking over his calculations with something of a level of reverence, "Cause Magic is something any teenager can do. This stuff takes a whole lot more smarts than most wizards have just to be able to _toy_ with, let alone make major advancements with. Magic took thousands of years to get where it is, but the Muggles have almost caught up, and in some ways even gone far past Wizards in hardly a couple hundred years." He was silent for a moment, just staring at the stuff around him as he stood up; then with a sigh he looked at Ron, "Ron. The Wizarding World used to be closed in just because the Muggles weren't very dangerous; there were more of them, of course, but short of burning a witch or two there wasn't much they could do. Now they've got ways to preserve memories that magic would try to erase, and can send word to every other Muggle in the entire world inside a few seconds. Photos cross the world almost as fast, radio is so easy to get to that anyone with a bit of wire and some trash can listen in. It..."

Harry shook his head, giving his things a slow, almost sad look, "Wizards stayed secret for an awful long time, but it's time they stopped being so paranoid. Because if they try to stay this secret for much longer they'll be found out eventually, and they'll be in far more trouble for having kept it secret than if they just came out and told everyone right off. Hagrid says we don't tell them 'Because then everybody'd be wantin' magical solutions to their problems!', and maybe they would. But if we _don't_ tell them and they find out?"

Ron was quiet for a minute, just staring at Harry, "Harry, I don't know... do you really think it'd be a good idea? 'Cause you know nobody would go for it. It wouldn't matter how famous you were, you could never convince the Ministry to just come out and drop it all..."

Harry laughed weakly, "Ron, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying... Ron, the Muggles _double_ their abilities every few years; who's to say where they'll be in ten years? In twenty years any Muggle house will be _easier_ to live in than an old wizarding mansion, and it won't be very long after that when Muggleborns would start _leaving_ Hogwarts because it's too old fashioned... Things have to change, Ron, because if they don't either there'll be a war, and there _will_ be if things don't change, or Magic itself will just sort of... stop."

Ron rolled his eyes, "C'mon, Harry, I know there's a lot more Muggles than Wizards, but what could they _really_ do?"

Harry looked at his things for a moment before sighing, "Hiroshima and Nagasaki weren't destroyed by magic, Ron. And I'm not sure if a flock of dragons would stand a chance against a few fighter jets; thick hides or not a good pilot would pick them to pieces." Harry gave Ron a forlorn look, "It's a dangerous game, Ron. Right now we're keeping things from blowing up by _hiding_, and we're still hiding. So what happens when we can't hide anymore?"

Ron was almost getting agitated now, "But the Muggles _won't_ find out! Even if they _do_ see something the Ministry just removes their memory of it, remember? No problem!"

Harry sighed, starting to pick his stuff up, "Yes, but it won't be long until Muggle technology is so advanced that memory charms Just. Won't. Work on them anymore. Everything they see will be seen by everybody in the world. People in china will watch dragons fly over Ireland. Satellites will point out all the places that Muggle maps don't show, and actually be able to _point_ them to the places they aren't supposed to be able to go. If they get too suspicious they could just bomb it..." He looked his things over as he placed them reverently in his trunk, "There's got to be some common ground, Ron, and the less the Wizarding world keeps up, the greater the chances are that things will go bad. And right now they would go _very_ bad; all the stuff you don't understand would make you look... well, _stupid_ to a lot of Muggles, no matter _what_ you could do with a potion. I can't show magic to the Muggles, but maybe if we can get more Muggle stuff in the Wizard world, that might lighten the blow when it comes."

Ron reddened a little bit, "Hey, I'm not stupid!"

Harry rolled his eyes, giving his friend a grin, "Ron, you thought that a battery would make a radio grow legs and run away; if you said that in front of a bunch of Muggles they'd think _you_ escaped from the Loony Bin."

Ron crossed his arms, blushing a little bit, "Hey, it's not _my_ fault I didn't know!"

"Exactly." Harry stood up and started walking toward the room he'd be sharing with Ron, "You don't know, so you don't know how it could be worth it. I wanna show how it's worth it, and then maybe we can start working on the bigger problems. So, I'm gonna work on it. Who knows? Maybe we could end up working together someday?"

Ron rolled his eyes, "Mate, you're goin' way over my head, but I wish you the best of luck. I reckon you're gonna need it." Harry only laughed, not bothering to ask why Ron had gone down to see him at three in the morning.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 9<p>

* * *

><p>In case you're curious, he needed a glass of water to settle his nerves; wasn't quite expecting what he got, though.<p>

Honestly, neither was I; that whole scene just sort of... mutated out of control. That's where an author will complain about the characters rewriting the script at the last second, without consulting the one behind the keyboard. XD

Though after that, I'll bet you can probably discern my feelings on a few of the things commonplace in Harry's world. As far as I'm concerned, Memory Charms like Obliviate should be considered Unforgivable. Avada Kedavra removes the ability to defend, the Cruciatus is just absolute torture, the Imperius removes the ability to choose, and Obliviate removes the ability to _know_, itself a core component of the ability to choose. It's simply used far too... easily, nonchalantly... it just bugs me, and now it apparently bugs Harry as well. Blame his Mew-related Naiveté. As for his blabbermouth? Well, he just thinks so fast, he doesn't see any point in holding most things in, and Ron has always been his sounding board for when he wanted to complain, so the poor boy got drafted.

Well that's it for my rant of the week. (groan)

Next chapter will start them off to the Quidditch Cup. So, until later!

_Edit: (8/8/2012) I know there was something I changed in here, but for the life of me I can't remember what. Removed some unnecessary stuff from the A/N as part of form._

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	11. An Unfortunate Scene

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

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><p>Chapter 10: An Unfortunate Scene<p>

* * *

><p>When Mrs. Weasley came to Ron's room the next morning she found Harry already awake and active, "Oh! Good morning Harry, it's almost time to go, could you wake the other three?" Harry nodded and she was off.<p>

It was a few seconds coming as Harry wondered how he would wake his temporary roommates; for a moment he contemplated waking them with a prank, thinking the twins might appreciate it. But, as the twins had yet to prank _him_, he thought better of it. He nudged Ron gently on the shoulder, "Hey Ron, time to go." The noise was enough to wake the twins, who started rolling and moaning at the foot of Ron's bed.

"'s time t' go already?" "Where're my socks?"

Ron, however, didn't immediately wake so Harry had to try again, this time a little harder, "Ron, wake up, it's time to go." The boy groaned, but otherwise remained where he was, "Fine, be that way." Harry crossed his arms, though, then smiled an evil smile, leaning in to whisper in the boy's ear, "Ron you're late! We've left you behind and now you'll never see the Quidditch Cup!"

Ron's eyes snapped open and he shot bolt-straight out of bed, "No! Wait for me!" He sat like that for a moment, blinking stupidly at the amused faces of his brothers, then looked at Harry, who looked equally amused, "Harry... 's not funny." Harry only laughed as a great yawn clawed its way out of the boy's mouth.

As the bunch of them made their way downstairs, yawning and stretching, Mrs. Weasley fussed over them, her husband, and the missing girls, who moments later were no longer missing but still managed to be only half there.

Ginny gave the room a sour look, "Where're Bill and Charlie? And Percy?"

"Well they can Apparate, can't they?"

"So what, they're going to sleep in?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded, "Yes, they'll be around on time I'll see to that. Now get some breakfast in you, but not too much!" She fussed a bit more, handing out pieces of toast and placing a bowl of sliced butter on the table, "You'll be arriving by Portkey, so you don't want a full stomach, especially you Harry, as you've never took one before; they aren't gentle." Harry nodded lightly as he ate the single piece of toast he'd been handed, ignoring the butter. If the Portkey was worse than the Floo Harry wasn't sure he wanted to take it, anyway, let alone on a full stomach.

Mr. Weasley caught Harry's attention as he was just swallowing his last bite, turning around a bit to give the boy a good look at his clothing, "What do you think? We've got to go incognito, so do I look like a Muggle?"

Harry gave the outfit a gaze, smiled and said, "You look like a retired rapper who's going golfing. You'll still stick out, I bet, but not as much as otherwise." Ron rolled his eyes as his father looked mildly disappointed, "Next time ask Hermione ahead of time, instead of afterward; she was raised by Muggles, remember?"

Mr. Weasley nodded, "Right, well it's not too bad for now, right? Okay good." Still not looking as confident as he could have, Mr. Weasley fussed with his shirt a bit as he went to check on something in the background, leaving Harry's sight just as Mrs. Weasley started shouting at the twins.

"Now I want you two to _behave yourselves_! None of that Wizarding Wheezes nonsense, do you understand me?" The twins acquiesced but Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to believe them, "Empty out your pockets, right this second! Go on now, empty them!"

The boys did as they were told and produced handfuls of candies wrapped in brightly colored packages, which Mrs. Weasley took from them with disdain, "And what've these got in them? Itching potion? Convulsion Powder? We'll just keep these here, then! Now, the rest of it!" The twins seemed uncomfortable, but produced more of the little candies; still, Mrs. Weasley wasn't satisfied and, apparently just to be safe, started summoning whatever the boys had on them, "_Accio! Accio! Accio!_" More and more of the little candies popped out of some of the most unlikely places, seeming to be pulled straight from the very fabric of their clothing, creating a pile of them nearly three pounds in total, which is when Mrs. Weasley finally seemed satisfied, "Regardless what they are I think we'll just keep them here. And if I find out you've been getting into any trouble, _any trouble at all!_ I'll destroy the lot of them! Understand?"

Fred and George went white under their mother's stern, no-nonsense gaze, "But it took months to make all those!"

This seemed to only fuel their mother's displeasure, "Oh a fine way to spend so much time! No wonder you didn't get more OWL's! If you ever want to see these things again you'd best stay out of trouble, you hear me!?"

"Yes, mum." The twins bowed their heads, seemingly to the inevitable as they shuffled away, still giving furtive glances to the pile of candies.

"Serves them right." Ron whispered to Harry once the twins were out of earshot, "The way they've been going those things'd probably make you hurl your lungs across the room." Harry tried to imagine that, but somehow didn't quite manage it.

Sometime later the whole leaving party was brought together, with Mr. Weasley taking the front in his mismatched outfit, complete with a brand new tie that now made him look like a middle-aged rapper who was going golfing after a meting. Harry was sure that Uncle Vernon would probably have a heart attack if he saw such a sight, and this thought made him smile ever-so-lightly.

"Now, we've got a bit of a walk so we'd better be off. The Portkey we're going to use is up at the top of Stoatshead hill, and we have to be there on time or else we'll miss it." And with that he kissed his wife goodbye and they were off.

It took quite a bit of time before they arrived at the hill, and by that time they'd already gotten a few odd looks from the Muggles along the way, though he imagined that, considering how tired the twins still acted, Mr. Weasley must have simply been in too much a rush to dress properly, so no one said a thing.

Besides, it _was_ early enough in the morning that there was only a few very tired people on the streets, anyway.

Stoatshead hill itself was pretty large, and fairly steep; they kept slipping on the slick grass, or catching their feet in rabbit holes. Harry kept getting distracted as the rabbits that lived in those holes poked their heads out to give them a look before darting back inside; he even ran off after one that'd crossed right in front of him, causing Hermione to huff with quite a bit of embarrassment and Mr. Weasley to laugh loudly, slapping Harry on the back, "Well I guess it's true you're a Seeker!"

"Er, right."

Although it didn't really make him tired physically, mentally the trip to the top of Stoatshead was the longest of his life; after his initial slip-up Harry felt obligated to keep control of himself in Ginny and Mr. Weasley's presence; Ron, Hermione, and the twins all knew of Harry's 'troubles', but even though Ginny was more familiar with his 'playfulness', both she and Mr. Weasley weren't supposed to know any more than that.

"Ah! And, now we're here. So where's the Portkey? It'll be something small, something Muggles would think was rubbish, so keep your eyes peeled." They all gave their understanding and started out to look for the 'Portkey', whatever form it might take.

They needn't have bothered.

"Arthur! Arthur, here, I've got it!"

Mr. Weasley smiled to the two figures, "Ah! Amos! Everybody come back on over here!" The group came back together and Mr. Weasley introduced the two figures; one was a man wearing a leather jacket and sweatpants, the other was a younger man wearing a matching t-shirt and shorts. "This is Amos Diggory, he works in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and I assume this is Cedric?"

Mr. Diggory smiled with a nod, "Yes it is, Cedric's quite the boy, he is. We had to get up at two am for all this, and I tell you he didn't complain once! Can't say as I would either, of course, the World Cup and all."

Mr. Weasley nodded, "I know the feeling. Well! You're introduced, so now it's our turn. I am Arthur Weasley, from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. These are my sons, Ron, Fred, and George. Ginny, my daughter, and Ron's friends Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Mr. Diggory looked straight at Harry, his eyes flickering to the scar on his forehead as a great big smile erupted on his face, "Harry Potter! Well isn't that something! Hear you and Ced had quite the game last year! Done everything just right. Good show! Ced's turning out alright as well, of course; good grades, good head on his shoulders. And he's _modest_ too! Anytime I start sayin' how proud I am of him he starts goin' all red!"

"Father please!"

"Hah! See what I mean? Like a beet! I'm telling you, though, he's gonna make Auror any day now, the Ministry will be beating a path to our door I tell you!"

Harry grinned, looking at Cedric, then Mr. Diggory, "Don't you have a path already?"

"No, actually; we live out in an old wood. Got a nice plot out there with a few flocks of some... _interesting_ creatures."

"Haha, now Ced, don't go saying too much about it; don't want to bore the poor boy!"

Mr. Weasley laughed with a smile, "On the contrary! Harry here, so I hear, spent all last year getting closer and closer with his Care of Magical Creatures professor; won't stop asking about Hippogriffs and those little bloodsuckers from that one area across the pond, what're they called again?" Mr. Weasley looked thoughtful a moment before smiling, "Chupacabra! Yes, he asked about them just before going off to school last summer, if I remember right."

"Is that right?" Mr. Diggory gave Harry an interested smile, "Maybe I'll be seeing him in my department, then? Goodness knows we could use some good help!"

Mr. Weasley smiled in response, "Let him finish school first, Amos; besides, I think he already has other ideas."

"That so? Too bad Ced doesn't really have an idea what he wants; just seems to be hoping someone will recruit him or something. Which I'm sure they will; like I said, Bones'll be knocking on our door the day he graduates!"

Mr. Weasley nodded agreeably as he looked at his watch, "It's coming on time. Alright everyone, gather around the Portkey and touch it, you only need to be touching with one finger, that'll do it. Just a few seconds now, that's right."

"Now don't let go, Ced, or you'll have to fly there yourself."

Everyone gathered around the old, raggedy boot as Mr. Weasley stared at his watch; Harry got the feeling that if a Muggle came along right about now they would look rather silly, all gathered up and touching a single finger to an old boot.

"Three... two... one."

Harry suddenly felt a sharp jerk in his stomach, and he was flung in various directions, being pulled painfully by his finger, which was stuck to the boot as though by glue; he nearly dropped his Transformation as the feeling of being flung about in strange ways alarmed him to a point it was almost uncontrollable.

And then it stopped; Harry was still, barely, human, and was now flung out on top of Ron, who didn't seem to be doing too well himself. A voice called out which caught Harry's attention.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill."

Harry promptly crawled to a bucket in the corner and lost his breakfast.

* * *

><p>"Sorry about that, Harry, suppose I should have warned you it would be rough."<p>

Harry nodded with a bit of distraction, "It's alright, don't think it would've helped, anyway." Hermione gave him worried looks; he was sure he still looked a bit green, but since there were no Portkeys in sight Harry was confident he wouldn't run screaming the other direction.

"Right, well, here's our tents."

Setting up the tents wasn't too difficult; it took a few moments to work out how to do it, but he and Hermione were able to get it together, despite Mr. Weasley getting overly exited about using the mallets.

Mr. Weasley nodded, "Yes, well, let's have a look, shall we?" He ducked his head as he walked through the flap that served as a door, and when Harry and the others followed they found that the inside much more matched a small house than a small tent. It was so exceptional that Harry actually went back outside to investigate the fabric of which it appeared to be made, followed by a close look at the inner wall. He mostly ignored Mr. Weasley commenting about campfires as he looked, only stopping when Ron and Hermione pulled him away, telling him they needed to fetch some water from a tap somewhere.

Not really paying much attention to where his friends were leading him, Harry was content to watch the goings-on of the camping area; it was as though the entire countryside had been bedecked with tents, and even at the early hour, with the sun only barely rising over the horizon, children barely two years old were already getting in trouble. One young boy had engorged a slug with his father's wand, whereas a ministry official had stepped in to stop a pair of little girls from flying around on brooms that barely got them off the ground, breaking into the tent afterward to wake their parents. Being as there were Muggles about the Ministry had set up Anti-Muggle securities, though it didn't seem that the magical folk seemed to give much mind to it.

They went through a sea of green shamrocks that denoted where the Ireland devotee's were camped, and then passed by the Bulgarian section, which was largely plastered with moving posters of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. Ron was acting a bit starstruck at the face of the boy, but Hermione was more concerned with him looking grumpy, an approximation he was liable to agree with.

Finally they reached a long line for the water tap, where several people had already gathered; there was a fuss near the end of the line where a pair of men were arguing with each-other. One of them was wearing a pale, long nightdress while the other seemed to be trying to convince him to put some trousers on; apparently, the man in the dress enjoyed a nice breeze around his privates. This comment caused Hermione to break out in giggles and leave the line, not returning until the man was gone.

On their way back they found that a lot of their classmates from school were camped out as well, many of whom greeted them as they passed; there were some people Harry didn't recognize as well, most of whom Harry assumed were from other schools. He'd heard of some of the other schools, at least a few of which were responsible for some of the materials in the _Study_. He momentarily wondered, and decided to research the differences in curriculum between the schools, as well as how they stacked up against each-other. He doubted, though, that he'd have any real amount of reading material on the subject while staying out on a campground, but figured he'd be able to find it in the Hogwarts Library.

When they got back to the tent Harry honestly couldn't help himself, returning to inspecting the tent, "How's this work?"

Ron looked at him funny, "It's charmed, of course."

"I know that. I mean, what sort of charms are on it? Where does all this stuff go when the tent is folded up? Would it stay like it is? Could you stay inside and have someone fold it up around you? What happens when the fabric rips? Does a hole open up inside? Do noises come outside? And if it doesn't stay up inside, what if someone's inside and it falls, does it fall different somehow than on the outside? Like would it crush you, or does it only _look_ heavy?"

Ron stared at him oddly for a few moments, then shook his head, "Harry, you're barmy."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Right, well I've got nothing else to do for a while. Want to play some chess or something?"

"Haven't got my chess set."

"Didn't bring it?"

"Couldn't, haven't got a muggle set." Ron shrugged, turning away to hide his displeasure.

Harry sighed, looking over at Hermione, who was helping Mr. Weasley light a fire; turned out the man had been getting overexcited about using the Matches. Idly Harry wondered how well he would have done if he had decided to try it the 'Boy Scout' way; he probably would have rubbed a hole in the ground and given himself a heart attack, _still_ with no fire.

He wondered, also, how the 'Rub two sticks' method would work if one tried to use wands for sticks. Maybe he could convince someone to let him try it someday; it could prove to be entertaining.

While the fire grew to cooking size, Mr. Weasley pointed out the various people who kept walking by; it seemed that their spot was just beside some sort of thoroughfare, as Ministry officials kept hurrying this way and that, at times stopping to talk with Mr. Weasley or more often giving him a polite nod as they passed. Harry found himself memorizing various faces, names, and overlong titles during the impromptu introduction session. Not that he really cared, but his mind, with nothing to distract it, was practically buzzing for something to do, so memorizing random facts seemed just the ticket.

Finally Mr. Weasley suddenly stood, his face beaming, "The man of the hour! Ludo! Over here!"

Harry looked up and saw a familiar face coming toward him; the familiar streak of excitement was still in the boyish face of Ludo Bagman, but the addition of brightly contrasting colors and a nigh-unstoppable spring in his step contributed greatly to the sense of the man as a grown child. "Ah Arthur! Can you believe it! Perfect weather! Not a hiccup in the arrangements! It's almost perfect and I've had hardly a thing to do all day!"

Everyone's eyes were drawn behind the man as a series of purple sparks flew into the air, drawing the attention of a good number of official, haggard looking people. Harry, who'd already met the man, wasn't surprised by his inattentiveness, but he noticed Hermione roll her eyes.

Mr. Weasley smiled, shaking the man's hand, "Everyone this is Ludo Bagman, he's the one who netted the tickets for us; he organized this whole thing!"

Ludo nodded at the introduction, smile in place as he gave Harry an appraising smile, which Harry returned. "Speaking of which, Arthur-" Bagman turned to look Mr. Weasley in the eye again, "You haven't seen Mr. Crouch anywhere near here, have you? My Bulgarian counterpart is going on about something or another and I can't pick out a word he's saying; Barty speaks about a hundred and fifty languages I was hoping he could help me out."

"Mr. Crouch?" Percy suddenly sat stock still, smiling brightly, "Two hundred actually! Mermish and Gobbledegook, and Troll..." Percy's eyes shined as he spouted praise about his favorite person in the world.

"Anybody can speak Troll. You just point and grunt." Fred pointed at the fire and grunted, "See? That means 'Fire'." Percy soured instantly and stoked the fire a bit, bringing the teakettle back to a boil.

"Sorry, can't say as I have."

"Oh well. Say, fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? I've already had a few takers." Bagman jingled a pouch within his robes, eyebrow moving enticingly.

"Oh no, I don't think so; best not to be a bad influence, you know."

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts," said Fred as he and George pooled their money, "-on Ireland to win, but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand."

Mr. Weasley threw a bit of a fit at that, saying their mother wouldn't want them betting and Mr. Bagman wouldn't want a silly thing like a fake wand, but Bagman and the twins ignored him, coming to a deal that Harry supposed would either make or break the twins.

Some time later Barty Crouch arrived and gave Bagman something of a hard time, finally explaining what his Bulgarian opposite had been going on about. Percy acted a bit like a fluttering fanboy in Crouch's presence, and the twins grinned when the man called him 'Weatherby'.

When both men had finally left the twins rounded on their father, "What was he talking about, dad? What's happening at Hogwarts?"

Harry mostly tuned that conversation out, feeling up to a little catnap as he stared lazily at the sky. Ron managed to convince him to stay up enough to buy some souvenirs, and by the time they got back he'd gotten a few pairs of Omnioculars along with a few random whizzbangs and do-dads that caught his fancy, including a miniature Firebolt that really flew, and a green Shamrock that rained green sparkles around its base, which was also green.

In fact, the Ministry had, by mid-afternoon, bowed to the inevitable and stopped even trying to curtail the bold, blatant use of magic that was happening all over the fields and woods; people were flying about everywhere, magical fires going on for most of the day. And as everyone was supposed to be dressed as Muggles anyway, any Muggle who happened across the gathering would find themselves being offered all sorts of magical things, as the sales wizards likely wouldn't have made any distinction in all the mess.

Harry barely got to shut his eyes after their adventure before a gong sounded through the woods and magical lanterns lit to show the way to the field.

Still a tad sleepy, Harry followed the general trend of things and went to where Mr. Weasley indicated they were to stay; the top box was, as the name suggested, the highest point of the stadium, which itself was rather large. Harry was interested to note that, other than a House Elf, they were the first ones there. After a short conversation he found that she had been sent there by her master to save him a seat.

As she cast surreptitious glances at the empty spot beside her, however, Harry's senses picked up on a presence in the spot and he found himself giving it odd looks. Still, he figured it was none of his business and sat in his place.

Ron spent some time playing with his Omnioculars, apparently making an old bloke pick his nose again and again as Hermione quoted from her program, "'A display from the Team mascots will precede the match.'"

"Ah, well that should be a good show!" Mr. Weasley smiled as he gave the field a searching look, as though expecting the mascots to come marching out any moment, "International teams always bring magical creatures from their home countries."

As time went on a few more people showed up, including Minister Fudge, some Bulgarian fellow who gabbled furiously once he spotted Harry's scar, the pretentious Malfoys who did their level best to ignore him, though Lucious Malfoy took several moments to exchange clipped tones with Mr. Weasley, and even Mr. Bagman came, apparently more excited than ever.

"D'you suppose everyone is ready?" He looked to Minister Fudge, "Minister – ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo."

Bagman nodded and pointed his wand at his own throat, whispering "_Sonorus!_" as a spell took hold; he then spoke with a voice that boomed across the whole stadium, welcoming one and all to the International Quidditch World Cup to raucous applause.

And then the mascots for the Bulgarian team were introduced.

"Wonder what they've brought?" He led the way as they all looked across the field, searching for the mascots, "Ah! _Veela._"

For a moment Harry wondered what 'Veela' were, but as he looked across the field he saw a bunch of women. Sure, they were odd looking women to be sure, with skin and hair colors that struck him as strange. Music started and the women started dancing. Harry quickly grew bored, but Ron seemed to be captivated. In fact, all the boys and men in the top box, other than Harry, were having trouble staying in their seats. Even Mr. Weasley, one of the most restrained of them all, was jumping slightly by the time the music finally stopped; Ron was tearing at the shamrocks on his hat, staring blankly at the field until Mr. Weasley took the hat from him, "Think you might want to keep that, at least until the Ireland team's mascots have had their say."

Harry tilted his head, "What did they bring?"

"Wait and see."

Harry waited, and Harry saw; a bunch of little men all in green came out and flew in formation, showering the entire field in magical shamrocks before making a large rainbow, from which fell a rain shower of gold pieces; Ron made a fuss of using some of the gold to repay Harry for the Omnioculars before the leprechauns went down to sit on the sidelines opposite the veela.

Finally Bagman introduced the players, a great roar from the Bulgarian side splitting the air as Viktor Krum appeared, then a continuous one from the Irish side as the entire team zoomed to the field. The Chairwizard of the International Quidditch Association was then introduced, and he started off the game itself.

The Quaffle was being passed around so quickly that Bagman barely had time to say the name of the player who had it before it was passed along; maneuvers were being used time and again, goals were being scored by Ireland almost constantly and for the most part Harry ignored it all. His eyes were on that glitter of gold; he would lose it from time to time, but fore the most part he kept a firm eye on it.

"Harry, what're you looking at?"

"Their Snitch is faster than ours."

"Well of course it is! D'you think anybody'd be able to catch it if it was faster than the brooms they've got at Hogwarts?" Harry merely hummed as his eyes kept bouncing in time with the Snitch, which currently seemed content to bounce amongst the Bulgarian fans, startling a few of them. Minister Fudge gave him a few appraising looks, and even Bagman, who was supposed to be doing commentary, was stopped for just a moment between goals when he noticed the sharpness in Harry's eyes, though he quickly started back up without comment.

Mr. Weasley was the one who finally commented on it, "Harry, have you been watching the Snitch this entire time?"

Harry nodded distractedly, "Haven't got any Bludgers after me, so it's not too hard. Its by Ireland's goals now." Everyone other than Bagman looked, and sure enough there it was, hovering just beside the ear of a very bored-looking Keeper. Harry heard a sneer from down the aisle, where Draco most likely was sitting, but otherwise the only real reactions were silent ones, body language saying what words could not as Harry continued to ignore all of them.

Unlike Harry, the two Seekers who actually had brooms under them had not yet spotted the Snitch, though the shout that the Irish Keeper loosed when the Snitch surprised him to the point of nearly throwing him from his broom drew plenty of attention; unfortunately even Viktor Krum had lost the Snitch before either of them could go after it. By now the score was so heavily in favor of Ireland that Krum catching the Snitch still wouldn't win Bulgaria the game, and the veela were starting to get restless. Indeed, after several incidents, including one where the official was being charmed by the creatures, causing someone to have to go out and kick him in the shin the veela were nearly thrown to the lockers, but in the end all that really happened was Bulgaria getting a few more fouls on them. Some time later the veela, after being taunted by the leprechauns, had taken furiously to the field, changing from nearly-human women to bird-like amalgamations with long, beak-like noses and sharp eyes, wings sprouting from their backs. In fact, the game was nearly stalled in its entirety as the fighting between the mascots had to be quelled.

It was somewhat unfortunate, though, that they _hadn't_ called the game to get the mascots under control, as a fireball thrown by one of the veela had distracted the official long enough for not only Krum's nose to be broken by a fiercely-hit Bludger, but for both Seekers to see the Snitch; the Irish Seeker ended up planted to the ground, but Krum, face covered in blood leaking from his own nose, had caught it.

The final score was Bulgaria: 160 to Ireland: 170. Ireland had won.

And that made Harry smile; they hadn't even been the ones to get the Snitch. That deserved a lot more respect for the chasers than it did for the Bulgarian Seeker in Harry's book; they'd endured an entire game of grueling work and brilliant play, whereas Krum had only needed to do one thing to gain fifteen times the reward. It was hardly a wonder in Harry's mind why it seemed like Bulgaria had invested their entire effort into Krum, but he was glad that Ireland hadn't.

Bagman made a few more official-sounding statements to the crowd, finally ending with the Quidditch World Cup being handed to the Irish players to great applause.

Finally, excitement over, Bagman pointed his wand at his throat again and whispered "_Quietus._" His voice was hoarse and apparently over-used by this point as he looked at Harry proudly, croaking weakly as he said, "You had the Snitch in sight that whole time, didn't you?"

This drew Krum's attention as Harry nodded, "I lost it a couple of times, but yeah."

Bagman laughed and thrummed a heavy hand on Minister Fudge's shoulder, "What'd I tell you, Cornelius! Better than _any_ natural! Choice of teams for sure!" He coughed painfully, "I think I'm going to need a drink after all that."

Fudge straightened himself out, seemingly grumpy at the force that the extrovertive man had used, "Yes, I'm sure he could, but he'll be finishing school first, just like everyone else." At this Krum finally looked away from Harry and walked off as Fudge gave Harry a look, "Understand, Harry?" Harry shrugged, not really caring either way.

Bagman then gave the twins a look, "Ah yes, how much was that again?" He pulled out his money pouch and started going through it; he'd lost fair and square.

* * *

><p>Harry spent most of the rest of the evening in another catnap in the tent; he somehow managed to sleep just fine despite all the noise of the rest of the party loudly discussing the match, he wasn't aware of when everyone eventually turned in for the night, but at some point he re-awoke to find a silent tent.<p>

Peeking outside Harry contemplated on what he would do; staying silently in the tent didn't appeal to him, so he didn't. He also figured that it was dark enough so that, even if someone _had_ caught sight of Flash, they wouldn't really be able to recognize what they were seeing.

And so Flash made his way across the grounds, taking cover behind various garbage bins and tents that were strewn about the area, finally making it to an unused thicket of trees, where he really allowed himself to let go, flying between the branches and exploring the area with abandon. Most of the animals there were incredibly nervous, and not a one of them allowed him to get close to them.

It was fun, and a nice way to relax after such a long time away from the forest around Hogwarts; the moon was strong enough to see by even for a human, so he had no trouble getting around even at high speed. It was a nice, crisp and clear night, interrupted only by the few parties that were still going on.

He was just inspecting a tree with strange fruit on it when he noticed a commotion in the distance. Being the curious little critter he was, he decided he would investigate.

Passing by a little pond he flew to a branch near to where a group of wizards had gathered, many of them with wands pointed upward. Looking up to see what the fuss was about he saw a bunch of people floating overhead, contorting strangely as though the wizards were puppeteers pulling strings; the wizards were all laughing as though it were all a merry joke, one of them flicked his wand and a woman floating overhead suddenly flipped upside down, her nightdress falling over her head and exposing voluminous bloomers as she wailed, trying to cover herself, fighting her hands in the doing, as they seemed to not want to do so. Next to her was the man who had given the Weasley party the map to their campsite, and the small size of the other two figures suggested them to be children.

Harry narrowed his eyes, watching as a wizard used his wand to catch a random tent on fire, a few others simply flinging other tents away as people screamed and ran as quickly as they could.

He drew a few trees closer, tail ticking furiously behind him, back and forth, as though clicking his anger out in half-second increments. Inside, he was fighting with himself.

If he went out to simply fight them, not only would he be a target, but the wizards in white masks would probably see his scar and recognize him, which was something he knew for sure that he didn't want. He could try transforming into something they wouldn't recognize, but what, exactly? Besides, no matter how strong he could possibly become, it would be suicide to take the group of wizards on directly; even if he could take a few of them out there were too many of them and they could take him down eventually. He momentarily wondered if he could become human and cast a spell that way, but his memory supplied that such action would be considered illegal, and so he decided against it.

Suddenly his mind shifted, eyes no longer looking at the battlefield... but yet still seeing it. The wizards were recoiling from something, and seeing a chance he acted upon it; he chose several targets, nodded to himself, and came back to the present with a grin.

He then settled to wait, tail still twitching as he watched the goings-on, waiting for the attack he'd foreseen to take effect; while he was waiting a strange sensation took him over and he felt an odd energy building up inside of him. For just a moment he was puzzled, and even alarmed, but his instincts decided there was no threat and he knew what to do, loosing the energy forward at the wizards.

Arthur Weasley and his graduated sons didn't get to see what'd started it, assuming it was probably the doing of a random wizard in some unseen corner. But they _did_ see the effects; they were just coming into position when a great yellow flash erupted from a darkened copse of trees, sending a shock wave of sparkling, snarling electricity rushing through the air, slamming into the black-robed wizards and not even pausing over them, simply going through them and causing many of them to scream out in the process. Not a single one of them was spared as the elemental power sought out the moisture in their bodies and caused many of their nerves to misfire, throwing a great many of them to the ground.

One of the children in the air was dropped, and Mr. Weasley took great pains to catch her before she hit ground. In the chaos all he saw was a flash of light followed by the sudden escape of a bunch of animals from the trees; he recognized only the snow-white visage of Harry's owl, Hedwig, flying as elegantly as ever.

And then the Black-robed wizards were caught in another attack, and this one was even more mysterious.

The wizards, Death Eaters as Mr. Weasley identified them, were barely getting to their feet, a few of them still managing to keep the Muggles aloft when suddenly they were attacked; it was as though a bunch of Muggle wrestlers under Invisibility Cloaks had come up to them and started throwing them around. Some were thrown to the ground, others were merely smashed into one-another, and most interestingly all those who were still holding the Muggles aloft were hit hardest, being thrown forcefully back; Mr. Weasley didn't know what spell, exactly, was being used but he was glad for it.

From that point the fight turned into something of a melee, with the ministry wizards trying both to detain the masked wizards while also tending to the fallen Muggles, who were understandably rather panicky. As he understood it, the little girl was mumbling under her breath about magic not being 'like this'.

The Death Eaters were still fighting, albeit weakly, when another commotion arose as a great green, glimmering skull with a snake coming out of the mouth appeared over a nearby wood.

His knees went out beneath him, "The Dark Mark." The Death Eaters, oddly, panicked at the sight of it; they likely weren't expecting it and all ran in fright.

'Wait, that's the forest the kids ran to! Ginny!' Forgetting the Death Eaters for the moment, Mr. Weasley Disapparated instantly.

* * *

><p>Some time later Harry saw Charlie, Ron's second-oldest brother sticking his head out the door of their tent, "Dad, what's going on? I've got most of us in here, but Ron and Hermione are still out somewhere."<p>

Mr. Weasley was heard saying, "I've got them here." He then eased his way into the tent, holding the flap open for a very disturbed-looking boy and girl, "C'mon, you two get some tea or hot chocolate in you."

Charlie still didn't let go of his questioning, though Bill was helpful at least in getting some tea going to calm their nerves, "Well what happened? Did you catch who cast the mark?"

Mr. Weasley shook his head, looking disgruntled, "No, though we did find a House elf belonging to Mr. Crouch. I doubt she cast the mark, but Mr. Crouch saw fit to fire her."

Bill looked to be thinking about that, "A House elf? She wouldn't be _able_ to cast the mark... would she?"

Hermione shook her head strongly, "No, it wasn't her! It was a deep voice that cast it, like a man."

Mr. Weasley put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "Ron and Hermione had the bad luck to be nearby when it was cast; a bunch of us nearly stunned them to comas. It was Ron's wand that cast it, somebody nicked it from him in all the confusion, then the elf found the wand after they threw it off. Pretty sure they Disapparated off and left Ron's wand with the elf; thank Merlin we _mostly_ had level heads out there or Ron would probably be... well-" he looked sideways at Ron, who didn't look too happy, "Anyway, no we don't know who did it or why. What happened back here?"

Bill indicated to the group, "They all dispersed when they saw the mark, think they were spooked as much as we are; everybody just sort of drifted by after that. Charlie brought in Ginny and I found Harry stumbling about the woods by the Irish tents, Fred and George found us just a few minutes ago."

There was a general assent that it was good they'd all gotten back together, and then there was a discussion of the mark. It hadn't been seen in thirteen years, and Ron didn't fully know what it was or what it meant; unfortunately the mark had scared off all of the Death Eaters, all of them Disapparating before they could be unmasked. Apparently they were afraid of what Voldemort would do to them with all the denials they'd made when he lost power.

Finally, with a reminder that Mrs. Weasley would be worried when she heard the news of what'd happened, Mr. Weasley shoo'd them all to bed and everyone went to get a few more hours of sleep before morning, when they would be leaving for the Burrow first thing.

Harry, though, couldn't sleep. He had already gotten all the sleep he could handle for the night. Trouble was that he couldn't really do any reading, as there were too many other eyes that might notice if he brought out his flashlight; so instead he tried to sit there, staring into the blackness.

He considered leaving the tent again, but didn't think it smart; the last time he'd done that a bunch of Death Eaters had popped out of nowhere.

Still, it was boring there, in the tent, so to find something to do he went over what he remembered of the day. The Quidditch game was... nice, but he just didn't find the enjoyment from it that he used to; watching others play wasn't nearly as fun as playing it himself, and even that wasn't as much fun recently, as he wasn't being challenged like he used to be. Maybe if he used a slower broom? The Firebolt, great as it was, didn't allow him much challenge; it was too fast. Of course he didn't think his team would allow him to use one of the school's Cleansweeps; they didn't want a challenge, they simply wanted to win.

Not that Harry could blame them, of course, and it being a team sport Harry would still do right by the team if he could, but it still irked him.

So what? Then he went out to explore the area; he did alright, he was pretty sure of that. And then the Death Eaters appeared, wreaking havoc randomly, seemingly without purpose other than to have done it. Why was he thinking about it, though? Hadn't they all talked about it enough already?

Then he got to thinking about what he'd done in the forest, faced with those Death Eaters. It was obvious that he'd done something, he just wasn't entirely sure _what_. First he'd seen the future and attacked them that way, then he'd suddenly exploded with yellow light that knocked the bunch of them over. Why, though? And how did he do it, anyway?

Quietly, wordlessly, he contemplated those moments. He'd been distracted by what he was seeing, but that didn't mean he couldn't remember what he'd been doing.

Floating there, watching silently. He didn't want to be seen, but he wanted to do something. He was being a tad impatient, in fact, and he _knew_ that he had at least some small influence on time. Could that have been it? That was his assumption at least for the first one, which was technically the last one, but what about the yellow explosion?

He dug deeper, trying to discern his feelings on the matter. Why couldn't he remember? He hadn't even been sure what he was doing at the time, so why _would_ he remember?

Still... why was it he was more angry at himself for running away than for nearly exposing himself?

* * *

><p>End Chapter 10<p>

* * *

><p>I'm going to end this one here; I can't think of a better way to end it than that, so that's what I did.<p>

For those who are Pokemon savvy, or who aren't, the two skills that popped out of Harry so randomly were Future Sight and Shock Wave. The first is a Psychic-Type technique which acts as a sort of time-bomb, waiting two turns before slamming into the opponent. Shock Wave is a blast of electricity which passes through all opponents and, though it isn't the strongest electric attack, has a pretty good punch all the same, along with a chance of paralysis. Most of us can probably guess how and why Harry did what he did, and those of us who know Mew's growth sequence can then guess even more from that. Past that I will say... not much. XD

One of my reviewers mentioned _Fist of the Pikachu!_, and compared it to my story! That, alone, gives me a warm fuzzy, having read the mentioned story a long (long) time ago and enjoyed it rather a lot. If I remember right, I even years ago gave it some sort of 'Seal of Approval' in a review. Good times, good times.

And Vasuki: I'll have to give it some thought. I realize you're most likely right that I do focus a little much on only Harry, but the excuse I'm going to give is that the HP books do the same thing, only very rarely going outside of Harry's perception or revealing things that Harry is unaware of. It's a significant temptation to just go out and get everyone's take on certain things, but once you've picked a style it's usually not good to change it too much. The story could use a bit of input from other sources, but doing so runs the risk of revealing things too early. I liked revealing those scenes with Moony and Dumbledore because Moony was being shown as off-the-base, which I felt was productive to the story, while at the same time I got to show how Dumbledore manages to pull off the know-it-all role even when he doesn't, really, know what's going on in everybody else's heads.

Those lemon drops are a powerful subject-changer. Hehe.

_**THIS PART'S IMPORTANT!**_

One question that has come up more than once, and seems to be a legitimate concern, is Harry being able to become _any_ Pokemon. The answer, in Harry's case, is that there are certain Pokemon that are off-limits to him. For the most part, when he transforms into Random Pokemon Number-twelve, it's because that Pokemon exemplifies the trait he needed at the time (Umbreon (for those that don't know, this is what Harry transformed into when hiding from the Dementors a few chapters back) is the most visible of Dark types, at least that I can reckon, and Voltorb exemplifies Pokemon that explode, which is what Harry wanted in this chapter). Those Pokemon that he will be unable to transform into, even if they come out and stand in front of him, are: Giratina, Palkia, Dialga, Uxie, Mesprit, Azelf, Mewtwo, and the Porygon line. Mew as a transformation target is also iffy, as he's obviously able to accomplish the species, but I don't think I want him transforming into other individuals. And as for why he can't turn into Mewtwo or Porygon, it's because they are both 'Artificial' Pokemon and thus don't exist within Mew DNA. I'd say the same for the Virus Pokemon, since it was supposed to be an alien virus that mutated to _become_ a Pokemon. The first six are off-limits because of reasons related to how I view those individual species in relation to the whole picture of the Pokemon Pantheon of God-like-beings.

Then there is Harry's mood. I know that there are people that have noticed it, indeed it was a large part of the premise for this story. (Or, as one reviewer put it: Harry Potter plus Mew equals Angst-be-gone.) Harry can, at times, be a bit hard to pin down, and sometimes the reasons for this are very simple: Harry has just over twelve years of experience being one-hundred-percent human, which even for a human isn't really all that much, and in the face of having a mind (and nature) designed to move at a million miles per hour, effectively every day as a Mew is like a dozen days as a human. And since he was still effectively a child _before_ becoming a Mew, he is effectively taking the normal developmental path of a normal Mew, with a bit of human memory sprinkled in to make things interesting. It works, but no one, human nor Mew, is designed to live the life that Harry Potter is expected to live, and he's already having trouble with trying to work that out. I can't say much, but it will get worse before it gets better.

Finally, for Hermione evolving. Yes, she will evolve. There are exactly two possibilities open to her, and only one of them is legitimate in my mind, being the one that I accept. It would do no good to reveal which one at the moment, though, since it won't happen until fifth year anyway.

And now, it's raining, so I'd better to vacuum out my basement before the mice start a swim-team. (groans)

Well, until then!

_Edit: (8/8/2012) I deleted a sentence and replaced it with something that made slightly more sense. Also found a spelling error._

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	12. To Work At Home

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

* * *

><p>Chapter 11: To Work At Home<p>

* * *

><p>When morning finally came Harry and the others had to all get dressed as quickly as possible, breaking down the tents and getting everything put away in record time; Mr. Weasley then took them to catch an early Portkey and, despite the backlog around the Portkeys caused by the many people wanting to get home at once, they managed to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead hill.<p>

When they arrived, the ground was still damp and the sun hadn't even fully risen until they had already gotten through Ottery St. Catchpole, on the last leg of the journey to the Weasley household.

Mrs. Weasley had apparently been waiting out on the front lawn, because as soon as they were within sight she was running out to them and caught them all in a large group hug, crying and complaining about yelling at them over something or other.

"Stay out of trouble I said! And trouble came and got _you!_"

Mr. Weasley managed to prise a copy of the Daily Prophet from Mrs. Weasley's grasp, where a glittering black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark shone brightly on the first page; after scanning the headlines Mr. Weasley's gaze became rather dark, "I knew it, Rita Skeeter. Look, I'm mentioned."

"What? I never saw your name!"

"Not directly, look-"

Hermione pulled Harry aside, whispering into his ear, "Harry where were you last night, anyway?"

Harry looked at her, surprised, "Were you thinking about that all night?"

Hermione reddened just slightly, but didn't seem ready to feel ashamed, "Well of course! Maybe not all night, but really!"

Harry shrugged, noticing that Bill's attention had wavered from his parents and focused on him and Hermione, "I couldn't sleep so I went out for a walk in the woods; I dunno when you all woke up but I only noticed those people right near the end."

"End? You mean the mark?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Harry shook his head slowly, "Didn't know what it was, with how those people acted when they saw it thought it might've been the Ministry who did it, to scare them off or something."

Bill seemed to be thinking silently when Mrs. Weasley's voice carried to them, "Arthur, you're still on holiday! You shouldn't have to go in to work now!"

"I'm sorry, Molly, but I'm part of the problem, I made things worse."

"I'm going with him," Percy puffed himself up beside his retreating father, "Mr. Crouch is going to want all hands on deck for this."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, I have to go, _we_ have to go. I'll be back when I can." Suddenly Mr. Weasley and Percy both Disapparated from the kitchen.

Harry and Hermione caught Ron's attention and the three of them excused themselves to Ron's room, where Harry set his things out before settling down.

"Harry," Hermione didn't seem entirely satisfied with Harry's previous explanation, "Where were you _really_? Were you... er, well, you know, going wild?"

Harry tilted his head silently, considering Hermione's choice of words, "Eh, sure. Not really going anywhere, just sort of.. _floating_." He snickered silently at that, "Then there was a Flash and I ran off. Saw Bill soon after that." It was the truth, after all, and he was sure Hermione and Ron would understand it... well, Hermione anyway.

Harry walked to his trunk and placed his new belongings on top of it, Ron doing the same with his miniature Krum and Omnioculars, the only things he'd gotten that had survived, "Harry, any idea who might have cast the mark?"

Harry shrugged, tilting his head curiously, "I dunno, Malfoy maybe?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, we saw him in the woods."

"Yeah, as good as told us his dad was one of them, though; I wished dad had caught him. I'd have loved to see Malfoy's face."

"Yeah, me too. What d'you think, Bill?" Ron and Hermione looked at Harry oddly, but a choking noise from outside Ron's door caught their attention, "Well come on in, no sense in sneaking around out there, right?"

Ron's older brother came around the corner, looking shamefaced and at least a little curious, "Guess I'm not as quiet as I thought, huh?"

Harry grinned, "Guess not. Got questions?"

"No, not really, I was just wondering why you were all coming up here like that; I, well, guess that's it, really. Just curious." He shrugged and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Right, surprised the twins weren't following us, though." He crossed his arms and made to look thoughtful at that.

"Actually they went to their room; they're sulking in a corner over something. Pretty mad I think."

Ron suddenly got the shivers as both Bill and Hermione's eyebrows shot up, "Ohh, those two mad? Don't wanna think about that."

"Harry..." Hermione started, but stalled just long enough for Bill to interrupt.

"How did you know that?"

Harry grinned, "I gots a sixth sense." There was a moment during which the only movement was Ron, rolling his eyes like he thought Harry was being increasingly stupid; Harry pouted, "Fine, don't believe me, but it's true. I can sense people through walls and stuff. Comes in pretty handy when I gotta avoid the Dursleys. I'd have had my homework thrown out without it."

Bill crossed his arms, looking dubious as he nodded, "Yes, but _where _did you learn something like that? It's not exactly a common talent." Harry shrugged, looking unabashed.

"Couldn't really tell you; it just sort of... started happening. Kind of like that one time I turned my teacher's hair blue, I think, or when I accidentally teleported on top of that air conditioner because Dudley was chasing me; ooh! Or that one time, at the zoo, when I made the glass disappear and set that snake on Dudley! That was kind of fun, but I didn't even know I was doing it. Except I don't think Dudley was actually picking on me much that day, he was just pushing me around and complaining a lot."

Hermione was giving Harry odd looks, "You mean accidental magic?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, something like that."

Ron looked sideways at his brother, "I once made Bill's shoes disappear..."

"That was you? I thought it was the twins."

Ron smiled brightly, "Why do you think I didn't tell you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "The spring before I got my letter, I made a book latch onto a girl's face; not sure how they got it off, not that I wanted them to." She blushed as she looked away, though Ron only grinned.

"Makes sense _your_ accident would involve a book, Hermione." The girl only huffed, looking perturbed and turning her gaze away.

"Look, that still doesn't explain how you could do it _now_. With your relatives I could understand, especially if they're like Ron's told me, but why would it still be going on? Why here?"

Harry grinned, then gave a light, serious look to Bill as he leaned forward, "How well do you know Dumbledore?"

Bill flinched, taken aback by the odd behavior from the far-too-young-to-be-acting-like-that boy, "What? What's Dumbledore got to do with any of it?"

Harry nodded, "Ask him, I don't really understand all of it myself, honestly. He could explain it loads better than I could. Now," He looked at Hermione, "You went to France, right?" At the girl's nod he turned to Ron, "And you went to Egypt?" Ron nodded and Harry followed, "I wanna go to Brazil, then. You guys both went off somewhere, I'm gonna go somewhere someday too." He nodded decisively and that, in his mind, was that.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Harry, no one said you couldn't; our parents took us-"

"And I don't have any." Harry's statement and sudden gaze froze Hermione into an expression of shame; it was a sudden shift, but somehow Harry continued to remain perfectly calm as he stared at her.

"Oh Harry, I didn't mean it that way..."

"Heh, and I doubt the Dursleys would take me anywhere; only reason they took me to the zoo that day was because Mrs. Figg had broken her leg. I wonder if that old snake ever actually made it to Brazil? I doubt it, I should check." He tilted his head curiously; he seriously doubted that the Muggle zookeepers would have let a however-many-feet-long snake just meander his way all the way to Brazil. When he went, he'd see about taking that snake with him.

"Harry, mate, you okay?"

"Hmm?" Harry looked at Ron, puzzled for a moment as to why he'd be asking a question like that, "What? Is something wrong?"

"It's just, you don't talk about your parents much, I mean; don't you miss them?"

Harry blinked owlishly at his friend, "Huh? Why would I? Never knew them?"

"Yeah, but... I mean, don't you want, er, sorry."

Harry laughed, "I dunno, Ron, do I? I dunno if I even know what they'd be like to begin with. I could probably imagine it, but I bet they'd just be like I wished they were, instead of what they really were." He shrugged, picking something out of his trunk; it was a squeaky toy, the same one Ron remembered Harry sticking in his mouth just before school the previous year. He gave it a squeeze, eliciting a small squeak as he smiled, "I just realized: I followed my father. Right?" He looked Ron in the eye, then Hermione, "I wonder if he'd have been proud? Or maybe mad? Wasn't very safe, was it?"

Bill sighed silently, taking his leave in the doing. Perhaps he really would have a talk with Dumbledore, though he doubted very much that he'd actually get anything out of the man; much as Harry seemed determined to change the subject he really had no right to insist Harry spill his secrets, especially if Dumbledore was in on them. In fact, it looked as though he wasn't going to find out just what those secrets were.

Oh well, it wasn't as though it could be all that important. After all, there was no way that Harry Potter could be a Death Eater, was there?

* * *

><p>Summer for Harry after that point was both fun, boring, and strange. Mr. Weasley allowed him some time to work in his Muggle Things Workshop, so long as he didn't use magic in any way, whereas Mrs. Weasley actually asked him for a few Muggle recipes as well as some tips on doing things 'The Muggle Way'; Harry and Ron spent a little bit of time flying around in an empty area behind the house, practicing Quidditch ostensibly, and Hermione came over to visit a couple of times with a little snippet of information on one thing or another, when Ron would roll his eyes and goad the both of them into a game of Exploding Snap. The twins remained mostly silent, at best making loud explosions rattle the house from their room, but for the most part the time he spent with the Weasleys was spent in peace and good company.<p>

And then came the odd part. At around lunchtime of the first of August the Weasley fireplace suddenly flared green, announcing the arrival of a guest and drawing everyone's attention.

"My, I wonder who it could be?" She looked at the family clock, but both Percy and Mr. Weasley's hands were sitting steadily on 'Work', "It's not Arthur or Percy..."

Suddenly a head appeared in the fire and Harry edged closer, eyes widening with curiosity, "Professor Dumbledore?"

The face of Professor Dumbledore floated in the fire, his long hair and beard fluttering in the fire as he looked around the room, eyes resting for a moment on Harry before moving to Mrs. Weasley, "Excuse me, Molly, but I was wondering if I could borrow Harry for a moment?"

"Of course, Professor! But whatever for?"

"Oh it's nothing. Think you're up to Flooing here, Harry?" Dumbledore gave him an interested look, eyes holding something that Harry couldn't immediately identify.

"Sure, Professor." Dumbledore nodded and pulled his head from the fire, which turned back to its normal orange. Mrs. Weasley beckoned Harry forward as she threw a bit of Floo powder into the fireplace.

"Just say 'Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts'."

Harry nodded and did as was suggested; it was more pleasant to travel by Floo, but still not a lot of fun for Harry, who stumbled into Dumbledore's grasp at the other end.

"Still can't handle the Floo, Harry?" There was a note of mirthful concern in his eyes as Harry shook his head, "Well take a seat."

Dumbledore's office was much the same as Harry remembered it from the last time Harry had been there, save for Fawkes the Phoenix being missing from his perch and a few of the portraits being empty. He took a seat in the chair that the Headmaster had drawn up before his arrival, then waited curiously to see why the man had called for him.

Dumbledore spent a few moments seemingly lost in thought, standing and staring at something on a wall, which happened to be lined with books, sheets of parchment sticking out between them. "Harry, I don't doubt that you're curious as to why I've called you here. And I promise that I will tell you all about it once I'm sure, but first..." He looked Harry in the eye, as though measuring his soul, "Are you sure? Are you able to become fully Human?"

Harry was stunned with confusion for a moment, trying to take the question in as a hundred other questions popped up in his mind, "Er, yes, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled a bit, "Then could you do so, for me?"

"Oh! I mean yes I'm sure I can't." He flushed, "Sorry."

"I see... Well then, I know of a spell; it can be used to return you to your natural form, since you say that you can't do it yourself I could use the Homomorphus to return you-"

"NO!" Harry stood up and stumbled backward over the chair, horrified expression on his face, "No Professor, I can't! Uh-uwaah!" His legs finally lost their fight with the chair and Harry fell backwards, where he landed with a thump and a Flash; without another word he flew away, hiding himself in an empty cauldron, where he curled up, shivering strongly enough to take the heavy iron model to the floor.

The portraits on the walls regarded Harry with no small measure of surprise as Dumbledore, who hadn't expected any sort of resistance, slowly approached, "Harry, are you alright? Is something wrong?" He became concerned when he got only frightened, rapid-fire mewing in response, "Harry calm down, no one's going to hurt you, now come out here." Harry still refused, mewing unintelligibly from within the cauldron as Dumbledore sighed, "Well then I guess I'll have to make you come out." He waved his wand and Harry was pulled from within the cauldron.

As soon as he realized this Harry started flailing in panic, mewing up a storm as he thrashed until, with a sudden pink glow, Dumbledore's wand was thrown across the room and Harry darted back inside the cauldron so hard that it turned over, closing over top of him and leaving a very stunned Headmaster apparently alone in the room with a still shaking cauldron.

Perhaps too late Professor Dumbledore, to the muttering of the portraits, came to the realization that he'd taken the wrong approach with Harry at that moment; there was nothing he could do about it now, of course, but it did make him realize what he _could_ do.

Calmly, he crossed his legs and sat on the floor beside the shaking cauldron; there he waited for Harry to calm down, when the kitten began to grow curious. Finally there was a moment of silence, which Dumbledore filled with his voice, as full of calm and reassurance as he could muster, "Harry, I won't hurt you here, I promise."

It took a moment, during which the portraits all stared with definite interest until, finally, the edge of the cauldron lifted, "Mew?"

"Come on out, Harry." He gestured toward the empty room, "And I must admit I'm curious what brought on such a strong reaction?"

Harry regarded the room from behind the lid of the cauldron for a moment, still apparently not so sure, until he crawled slowly out into the open, '_[I'm sorry about your wand...]_'

Dumbledore laughed softly, "Think nothing of it."

Harry slowly made his way across the room, lifting the chair back into place before transforming back into a human and sitting down; Dumbledore got the message and sat across from him again. "I... last year, after we caught Pettigrew, I thought... well, probably what you thought, about that spell..." He didn't look too energetic or happy, in fact looking rather glum, which struck Dumbledore as an interesting change from his previous demeanor, "I asked Professor Lupin to try it on me, and..." he shivered at the memory, still appearing a bit skittish at the idea. "It was horrible, I... it was like, like my arms and legs and everything else were being ripped away, except in my head. It..." Harry curled his arms around himself as Dumbledore remained silent, taking in what he was being told with an interested, contemplative look. "It was... worse than the Dementors..."

Dumbledore's face did not show his surprise; Harry had been exposed to more Dementors and in larger numbers than any other student, more than most adults, in fact. That he would say something was worse than being surrounded by a crowd of them, moments away from administering a fatal kiss really said something.

Of course, as Harry seemed to have a defense against them, Dumbledore felt that he could believe it. "I see." There was another moment of silence before Dumbledore continued, with something of a subdued voice, "Well then that leaves us with a problem." Harry looked up at him, curious, and he continued, "When you were young, on the day that Voldemort killed your parents, I had you taken to the Dursleys, do you know why?" He waited a moment for Harry to express curiosity before moving on, "It's because I had special protective wards raised on their house. Your aunt, as the last remaining person with blood relation to your mother, was the only one capable of carrying these special wards. They're called blood wards, and they're very powerful, as most blood magic is. That protection your mother gave you in _your_ blood made it possible... however, they also wear out over time, and need to be recharged. To recharge them you needed only to stay inside the wards for a few weeks every year, and they would guarantee you would come to no harm. Unfortunately, I've just discovered that they did not recharge this summer, do you know why?"

Harry made a thinking face, putting the man's explanation together with his previous line of questioning, "Is it because I'm not human?"

"Very close. You seem to no longer bear the blood that protected you; you do not seem to have quite the same blood as before. And as blood magic requires only just the right blood, they are failing. If they aren't recharged by September, they will fail completely."

"I see..."

"So, you're absolutely sure you can't change back?" Harry nodded and Dumbledore wilted just slightly, "Then I'm afraid you may not be able to return to the Dursleys."

"What? Why?"

"Because they are too far from anyone who may be able to protect you."

"Yeah, but, protect me from what? Voldemort is gone, right?"

Dumbledore smiled tiredly, "Ah but that's it, isn't it? I'm sure you've heard of those whom Voldemort left behind, who are still free? Not all of them were truly bewitched to follow him, and some may wish to do you harm because of what happened to their master. Even with him gone, that does not make you safe from his followers."

"But I can defend myself!"

Dumbledore smiled softly, "Perhaps here, but while term is out you are not allowed to perform magic, remember?"

"Oh..." Harry sat in silence for a moment, then said, "But I can do other stuff."

"Oh? Such as what?"

Harry shrugged, "Stuff, I dunno I just kinda make things happen, but without my wand or anything."

A smile graced the Headmaster's lips as one eyebrow raised in interest, "Oh? Could you show me?"

"Sure!" Harry nodded and suddenly changed into Flash, becoming surrounded by a light wash of pink as Dumbledore's wand levitated back to its master. The cauldron was put back into its place as Harry looked around the room, as though searching for ideas until, with a smile he turned to Dumbledore's desk, whence it slowly rose a few feet, turned around a few times, then rested back into place. "Mew!"

"I see." And he did, "At the Dursleys, any magic, whether you use your wand or not, will draw the Ministry's attention."

"But, isn't there something I can do? I can transform and I've never gotten a letter or anything..."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but unless you can become truly human, and stay that way for the next two weeks at least, you'll not be able to return to the Dursleys, or any Muggle household, until your majority at least."

"But! I'm still a minor, aren't I? I should be staying with my family!"

"While I'm glad to see you've developed such a strong bond with them, I'm afraid you simply wouldn't be safe there."

"So... I have to be human?"

"Yes."

"Do it." Harry's body stiffened, as though awaiting some terrible blow.

"Are... are you sure, Harry? What you described earlier doesn't sound like something to take lightly..." Dumbledore still raised his wand, regardless; something about Harry's voice both started and stopped him.

"Yes. Just... just do it."

Dumbledore nodded gravelly, raising his wand, "_Homomorphus._"

Harry's body glowed for a moment, and though the shift was nearly imperceptible Dumbledore could still feel it. And almost right away the boy's eyes snapped open, pain and terror written in wholesale across his face as he shifted, contorting horribly; after a second or so of silence he started screaming openly, tearing at the Headmaster's heart. After several charms to calm him down the screaming was reduced to heavy whimpering, and after several potions for pain Harry became lucid once more, managing to look at Dumbledore from a place on the floor with some level of intelligence.

"I see what you mean, Harry, that was frightening just to witness."

Harry's clothing had changed; he was now wearing something that Dumbledore didn't recognize, his previous outfit layered over top something that appeared much too large for him. He was thinner, paler, and sweating profusely as the boy swallowed heavily a few times, still managing to keep his eyes open, mouth opening and closing without saying anything.

Once sure the boy was stabilized Dumbledore turned to one of the portraits, "Fetch Madam Pomfrey." Once the subject had gone he turned back to Harry, whom he gently helped to sit back in the chair. "We'll have Madam Pomfrey look you over, she may have some answer for you." Harry nodded numbly, jaw shivering slightly with some unseen torment.

It was some time before Madame Pomfrey burst into the Headmaster's office, panicking at the sight of Harry, bustling over him so quickly that Dumbledore only just managed to shuffle out of the way, composing himself before asking between protests, "Could you do a full check-up, especially what you can find that could be related to his being an Animagus."

Pomfrey looked at the man for a moment before frowning darkly, "Help me get him to the Hospital Wing, I haven't got anything here that I can use."

Harry didn't say a thing as the two adults pulled him into the air and levitated him through the school on the long trek to the Hospital Wing, Pomfrey fussing over him the entire way, "He's burning up! Hurry!" Dumbledore gave Harry a troubled look, but said nothing as they collectively hurried to the Hospital Wing.

There were so many things he wanted to ask the boy, but now he feared he may not get those answers any time soon.

* * *

><p>At about the same time as Madam Pomfrey was fussing over a pale student in the Hospital Wing, Professor Sprout was coming out on the grounds to check on the states of her greenhouses. She recognized, of course, that she was not necessarily the most knowledgeable person in the world in all things, but she thought she was fairly well respected when it came to the care, use, and recognition of plants.<p>

Unfortunately, being so respected in the care for plants required constant work. It was work she loved very much, more than anyone the current Headmaster had ever known, but it was still rather draining at times to have to get up at five in the morning after spending nights well past midnight to tend to the night-loving plants; when she had the chance, despite her legacy of hard work, Professor Pomona Sprout would, in fact, periodically spend the morning in bed.

This was why it wasn't until after noon when she had decided to get to work that day, as nothing had specifically needed her attention for at least that long.

She would always look back on that decision with a touch of regret. For standing right there, in the very center of Hogwarts' grounds was a plant that she could not identify, with no readily visible source, standing freely at nearly thirty feet into the air; the stalk was nearly three feet thick, with leaves bigger than cars casting giant shadows on the ground below and a single bud, like the bud of a rose, curled up at the very top, making it look very much like a giant flower.

She had noticed it the moment she opened the doors to the courtyard, and for several seconds she stood rooted to that spot, gaping helplessly. She knew, _knew_ that it hadn't been there yesterday. And somehow, there it was.

Quietly, strangely, she walked up to it. Standing beneath it was even more... incredible than simply staring at it from a distance.

She tried to touch it, but found her hand stopped by a barrier just inches from the leafy surface. Several charms, hexes and jinxes later and she found that she could not affect it in any way.

After a full day of work, Professor Flitwick told her that he could not fully determine the spells on the plant, and so long as she could not touch or inspect it, Professor Sprout could not determine its origins. It could not be moved or removed, it did not respond to anything they could think to try. Even Professor Dumbledore, who had just returned from some unnamed mission, didn't seem to be able to do anything about it.

Finally, just a week before classes were to start again, Professor Pomona Sprout was seen sprucing up the ground around the giant flower, clearing it of weeds and adding fertilizer. She may have bowed to the inevitable, but she wasn't about to allow a plant to go uncared for!

* * *

><p>Vernon Dursley looked down at the figure on the floor with contempt. He had thought that he would be rid of the boy for the summer, that he wouldn't have to see his nephew for several months yet.<p>

But he'd been proven wrong.

One day just into August that God-Awful Freak of a man appeared, with his excessively long and gray hair, doubled with his excessively long and gray beard, and told him and his family that they would have to House Harry Potter for several weeks more. The Nerve! Why, Vernon had half a mind to throw the boy out as it was! Why would he take him in again?

But take him in they did.

The boy didn't seem to be the same, though. He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't eat, didn't sleep... he simply existed. It was almost like having a new rug in the spare bedroom.

"Eat, boy." In fact, he had been told to be sure that he _did_ eat. Why if Vernon were in charge the boy would starve! "EAT, BOY!"

A hand slowly, hesitantly moved toward the plate on the floor. It was skeletal, and so foreign, so vulnerable... Vernon wanted to step on that hand. It was such an evil thought, but he couldn't deny that he was having it. He wouldn't do it, as he wasn't quite _that_ far gone, but he couldn't deny that he was tempted.

"I said _EAT!_" Vernon's patience was worn excessively thin now; only the fact that the Freaks had seen to supply the boy's food for them made sure that he had any at all. "Fine, starve!" Finally the man left the room, the patience that he never had to begin with finally breaking.

Something that Vernon didn't see, indeed _couldn't_ see, being a Muggle and all, was the little House Elf who was watching over his charge. "Harry Potter will not be harmed." Twin base-ball-sized eyes moved to the boy's form, "Harry Potter will not starve." The Elf did something inexplicable and Harry seemed to liven just slightly, "Harry Potter must live. Harry Potter must eat."

Heavy, labored breathing agreed with Dobby, the clinking of silverware on china being the only other sounds for quite some time.

Tomorrow, Dobby knew, Harry would return to the wizards. Harry was not doing well. Harry would be lost if he stayed with the Muggles much longer, if he stayed in this state.

Even if he had to smuggle Harry away. Even if he had to go against his Master, Dobby would. For Harry.

Of course, such dramatics wouldn't be necessary, but Dobby was a dramatic Elf, so it could be forgiven.

* * *

><p>Harry was a bit pale as he returned to the Headmaster's office, assisted by the man himself, but at least he was able to stand, contrary to how he had felt barely an hour ago, when he doubted that even the word 'alive' would have applied to him.<p>

Dumbledore sat him down, then sat across from him, giving him a concerned look, "How are you feeling?"

"Better." That was all he could come up with, honestly; when Dumbledore had come and told him it was time for him to change back, it had seemed like the greatest moment of his life. Even Apparating after-wards hadn't upset him, he was simply glad to be alive again.

"I hate to say this, Harry, but that wasn't the last of it." Harry's eyes widened when Dumbledore said this, "I know, I know, but I could not leave you there any longer, not in that state. If you can return for one week during the semester, that would be fine until the summer. But you would then need to do it again for several weeks over the summer..." And relatives aside, Dumbledore simply couldn't stomach the idea of putting Harry in that position again.

Harry nodded with a strength that he had yet to fully recover, "I'll do it."

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, then sighed, bowing to Harry's stubbornness, "And I shall investigate the possibility of improving the absorption rate; perhaps I can even find some way that you would not need to return to a true human form, but I _should_ be able to shorten the time you will need to be present."

That didn't sound too promising to Harry, though it was better than nothing, "Thank you."

Feeling every bit the old man that he really was, Professor Dumbledore was only able to smile softly, nodding his acceptance of Harry's thanks, "Now then, we should get you back to the Weasley's, they tell me that they intend to go to Diagon Alley no later than tomorrow, and I dare say you may need your rest if you intend to go with them." Harry grinned, nodding softly. "Up for a Floo ride?"

"Yeah."

* * *

><p>Mrs. Weasley was less than pleased to see the state that Harry returned to her house in, still looking somewhat pale and speaking in a sort of tired, breathy voice, but Professor Dumbledore insisted that Harry was fine and that he'd be up to top shape again in a few days, so she didn't worry overly much.<p>

Sometimes Dumbledore regretted having everyone's implicit trust, as sometimes he wished someone had spoken up against him. There were, after all, many things he regretted having done, or not done, in his past that he knew others had seen coming.

"Come on, Harry, I'll whip you something up, you look like you haven't eaten in days, and I think a cup of tea will do you wonders, as well." Harry didn't complain as he was shepherded into the sitting room, where he was made to wait as Mrs. Weasley bustled about, grabbing all the things she felt she needed to fatten him back up and get some tea in him.

While she worked in the kitchen Dumbledore stood beside the door, watching her with amusement on his face, "Molly, I have something of an unusual request."

She respected the man, trusted him with her very life and even the lives of her children, an honor not bestowed on many, but that line caught Molly Weasley's attention like few others, "What is it?" She frowned, "He won't come back a month later pale and shaking again, will he?" There was a note of danger in her voice as she said this, holding a large knife in her wand hand, as though ready to use the instrument in said wand's place.

"Oh I think not, Madam Pomfrey would have my head, I think." He settled himself into the doorway as Mrs. Weasley lowered her knife a bit.

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing to worry about, I was simply going to ask that, after you've taken Harry and your family to Diagon Alley for their school supplies and what-not, you send him to me. I'll keep him for an afternoon and return him unharmed."

Mrs. Weasley seemed to think about it for a moment, "We're going tomorrow, the express leaves in only a few days. I assume you're taking him to Hogwarts for something?"

"Yes."

"Fine then." Dumbledore nodded and swayed to leave.

"Then I'll be off. I'm needed at the Ministry." Mrs. Weasley held a snort.

"I wish you the best of luck, Headmaster."

Dumbledore laughed quietly, "I fear I may need all I can get."

* * *

><p>As it turned out Harry needn't return to the Weasleys', as they had simply sent his trunk in to Hogwarts later in the day, Dumbledore explaining that they'd done so at his request. As it was only a couple of days before term started, Harry merely got back to his self-heating bed back in his dorm. From there it was a strange few days; Dumbledore had him perform a few exercises in the Hogwarts grounds, and he was then left to wait out the few days until term.<p>

It didn't take long, and suddenly term was open. The Sorting Hat sang a new song for the new First-Years, many of whom looked quite blue in the face, which was understandable considering the storm outside. One of them struck Harry as being familiar, and when he noticed the boy mouthing something to Colin Creevy he understood that the younger boy must be Colin's brother.

As the Sorting went under way, Ron muttered about being hungry and wanting the whole thing to be over so he could eat, he was cold and starving and tired and famished and really just wanted to have some supper and get to bed.

Finally, after all the First Years had been sorted, with Dennis Creevy making it into Gryffindor and explaining about having fallen into the lake, the giant squid pushing him back into the boat, Dumbledore stood up and said "_Tuck in!_"

While he watched with a hint of jealousy, Nearly Headless Nick explained that Peeves nearly prevented them from having a meal in the first place; apparently he'd been prevented from attending the feast and had thrown a fit in the Kitchens, throwing pots and pans everywhere, drowning the place in soup and scaring the House Elves something incredible.

When she heard the words House Elves Hermione had stopped eating, seeming to stiffen, "House Elves?"

"Certainly, who did you think made these feasts? Don't come out during the day, mind you, don't like being seen and all. Mark of a good House Elf if you don't see them."

"But, there are House Elves here? How many?"

"Not really sure. About a couple hundred I'd bet. More than any other dwelling in Britain, of course."

Hermione looked at her food as though it had betrayed her, then scoffed and pushed it away, "I won't eat this, it's made by slave labor!"

Ron scoffed, "Oh c'm'n 'mione, y'ff-" Ron stopped speaking through his food after accidentally spitting some on Harry's cheek; after swallowing he apologized, "Sorry, Harry. You aren't gonna help them by starving yourself."

"I don't care, I'm not eating it." Harry tuned his friends out after that.

Finally, after much meat, fruit, and sweet dessert had been eaten or disappeared, Dumbledore stood back up and all the chatter in the halls stopped instantly. He adopted his signature smile and spoke loudly to the hall, "Now that we have all been fed and watered, a few announcements. Mr. Filch would like me to announce that a number of items have been included on the list of items banned from the building, including Screaming Yo-yo's and Ever Bashing Boomerangs. The full list, if you would wish to see it, is posted in Mr. Filch's office." The corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched ever so slightly, knowing that the only ones liable to check the list were those who would smuggle the items inside just to anger poor Mr. Filch. "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to students, as is Hogsmeade to students under their third year.

"It is also my solemn duty to inform you all that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be held this year." There was a sudden gasp from the room, though Harry discovered in that moment that he wasn't really all that disappointed, "This is due to an event that will start in October and take up far too much of the teachers' time and energy, something I am sure you will all-" At that moment the doors to the Great Hall banged open and all heads turned to check on the source of the interruption.

A surly looking man was standing there, holding a flask in his left hand as he looked straight ahead with his one good eye, the other one apparently having been replaced by a magical eye of electric blue that was now spinning madly in his head, as though trying to take in the entire hall at once; part of his nose appeared to have been ripped off of his face and his brows were scrunched into something of a mild scowl. As he walked forward he wobbled oddly between his one good foot and the peg that had replaced the other, which made a distinctive clacking sound on the stone floor.

Finally the man made it to the table and turned to Dumbledore, who smiled, "Ah! Good. And here I shall introduce Professor Moody, who will be taking the position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." The now named Professor Moody sat down after exchanging words with Professor Dumbledore and pulled a plate toward himself, sniffing the food suspiciously before starting in on it.

The muttering around the Great Hall that had started almost the moment the doors had opened, increased at this point, with speculation over what might be wrong with this latest teacher. Harry, himself, got a bad feeling from the man, he reeked of darkness, but he held his tongue; after all, perhaps someone who reeked of Darkness was best prepared to defend against it? The man's actions were suspicious, suspiciously so, which meant he could purvey some tips toward defending oneself.

Of course, Professor Lupin was a hard act to follow, and honestly Harry preferred a Werewolf over this man who smelled as though Vampires wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, but he would take what he could get.

Only Hagrid and Dumbledore applauded the man, who seemed oblivious to the cold greeting as he took a swig from the flask he'd come in carrying.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore returned his gaze to the assemblage, "This year at Hogwarts there will be held an event which has not-" There was a flash of lightning and Harry's attention was drawn from the announcement for just a moment, "-The Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts starting this October."

This announcement was followed by what felt like an electric fire coursing through the hall, as Wizarding children from as young as eleven to as old as eighteen started whispering excitedly, Ron himself being quite loud about it as even Hermione seemed excited, "The Triwizard Tournament? But they stopped that over a century ago according to _Hogwarts, A History_!"

Harry shrugged as he listened to Dumbledore explaining what the tournament involved, though his attention wavered about halfway through as more lightning flashed across the ceiling, distracting him for a bit. It wasn't until he heard Fred exclaiming "I'm going for it!" that he started remembering where he was.

Dumbledore went on to explain about the three schools, Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons placing an age restriction on the tournament, so as to allow only those with enough preparation to enter. Fred and George looked mutinous, but overall Harry didn't feel like caring too much; even if he wanted to participate, Dumbledore had all-but told them all that he wouldn't be able to. He hadn't outright said that Harry Potter would not be able to compete, but the message was clear enough.

Fred and George, though, were adamant, and Harry could understand; after all they would be seventeen less than a year away, and being sixth years they were in the right grade level for it; they probably felt cheated by the age, rather than grade restriction, and would try to cheat the proctors right back. It only seemed fair, really.

Not that Harry cared all that much. So far magical events didn't seem all that great, but perhaps watching would give him some of the excitement he needed to carry through another year of being cooped up inside.

Of course, after what he and Dumbledore had done a few days ago, perhaps Harry was being too pessimistic; there was no way that the old man could truly keep him inside _now_... was there? No, certainly not. Of course, keeping secrets from his classmates, or at the very least _House_mates was tiring enough already.

Honestly Harry just wanted to go out and fly around; it didn't seem like that great a request, was it?

No, Harry didn't think so. It wasn't like he was going to start carrying people through the halls, he just wanted to, er, explore... or something.

Finally, Ron started dragging him away and Harry acquiesced, allowing his friend to guide him through the halls; Ron was talking about trying out for the tournament, but Harry didn't really care.

Looking around, Harry sat in his magically warmed bed, testing the springs, though he really didn't need to, having done so more times than he could remember.

His dorm-mates went to sleep, and Harry slipped out unnoticed.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore gazed calmly, unblinkingly up at the flower that now towered over him, seeming to be competing with the school before which it stood in height. Over one hundred feet tall now, it was a teal green in most places, with deep, dark green leaves and a bud at the top which was almost white at the tip, with a single spot of black in the center of each petal; the leaves ended in not one, but two points and the roots went down deeply enough to pull at the ground water from which the grounds' lake was formed, though there was no possible way that even a single plant of such gargantuan size could start draining such a large, old lake.<p>

Testing the plant's defenses would prove fruitless, as he'd proven to himself many times before; instead, he now simply wondered on its purpose. Further, he wondered just what he would tell the visiting staff from Durmstrang and Bauxbatons about it.

The truth was that one day it hadn't been there, and the next day it was; it hadn't been conjured there, but had grown of its own soil, or so Professor Sprout assured him. She also told him that it seemed appreciative of her work in keeping the ground around it weed-free; Dumbledore wondered if the plant might be a weed itself, but Sprout waved it off, as until they had a better idea what it was, how it had gotten there and how it reproduced, she would be unable to make any such assumptions.

Dumbledore wished he could share in Professor Sprout's confidence in the matter; to put it mildly, the plant was simply too _big_ to be ignored, and its threat, even if only in its imposing size and mysterious nature, was obvious. That it seemed to be able to protect itself as it did only served to worry him further.

It worried him, he wasn't afraid to admit that, but for the moment he needed an excuse: The other schools knew that Hogwarts wasn't known for its gigantic plants, and their Headmasters might raise concerns over it.

"Weird, isn't it?"

Dumbledore turned an eye to the student standing beside him, "You're out of bed."

Harry shrugged, "Are you going to put me in detention?"

Dumbledore pretended to mull it over for a moment, but knew that the boy-turned-animal was likely feeling too boxed-in as it was, "Do you know what this-" he gestured at the base of the plant that was now taking over an area of the yard nearly eighty feet across, "-might be for?"

"Nope, not even a whisper." Harry shook his head as he looked up the stalk, finding that he couldn't actually see the bud that he knew to be at the top.

"That's a shame. Perhaps if you had stayed in Divinations...?" There was a small twinkle in Dumbledore's eye as he said this, gesturing idly in the air.

Harry shook his head, "No, it wouldn't have helped; if they want me to know, I'll know. If not, I won't."

He was right, of course, often the passive approach was best when dealing with prophecy, "I simply thought, and perhaps I'm mistaken, but aren't you privy to those decisions?"

The boy nodded to the positive, "Yeah, when I know what it is in the future, I'll have to decide whether I tell myself in the past. If I don't know, that means I decided not to tell myself, or couldn't." He scratched his chin with a tilt of the head, "Or something like that. I'm still kind of new."

That sounded appropriate to Dumbledore, who thought it also sounded rather mature coming from someone who had just started their fourth year; most boys Harry's age would be throwing a fit over having the power to influence time but not being able to use it. "Mr. Potter, I have a question for you, and I must admit I'm rather curious..." Harry made an interested little noise, turning one eyebrow up to the Headmaster, "You see, I've been wondering exactly why you have been as adamant about staying with the Dursleys as you have; I know they weren't the best to you, and returning as you had not long ago wasn't easy on you, indeed was dangerous... so why?"

Harry thought quietly for a moment, then softly began to speak,"It's... because I want to... work there." Dumbledore didn't seem to have full understanding right away, so Harry decided to elaborate, "I just figure that, I live and work and learn here in the Wizarding world, but I grew up with Muggles, so I ought to know Muggle things. I just wanted to... I guess, take a vacation from being a wizard every once in a while... if I can't go back to the Dursley's I'd probably live with the Weasleys, or out here... and I don't think I could learn the things I would need to learn if I stayed here."

Silence hung in the air after that, broken by the sound of a gust of wind breaking against the giant leaves overhead, shadows of moonlight playing against the ground until Dumbledore spoke, "Can I trust you not to destroy the grounds while I return to my office?"

Harry grinned lightly, "I promise not to break the school." His eyes lit up as he looked up at the older man, "Can I?" Dumbledore nodded and Harry gave such a bright smile it seemed to light up the ground, "Thanks!" There was a Flash and he flew off, heading for the Forbidden Forest where he quickly disappeared.

The wizened old man shook his head slowly, turning to make his way back to the school and his office without a word.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 11<p>

* * *

><p>Ciao, and all that French stuff!<p>

_ Post-Second-Edit-Note: I'd like to thank Ishkabod for pointing out an error in this chapter: Although the use of 'prise' was purposeful, it _was_ misspelled as 'prize'; I looked up the House Cup thing, and that has been changed to 'Inter-House Quidditch Cup', as the book intended it to be. I also changed a semicolon to a single-quote, which it was supposed to have been in the first place, and found a rogue 'm' that had replaced an 'n' in the line 'Fine then.' Didn't catch it the first time, so I caught it this time. Obviously. XD Another reader mentioned an earlier scene, when Harry was ill from the cold, where Harry's blood vessels were readily visible against the skin; I thought about it, and decided that he was right, and so corrected the mistake. As a result, Harry still _has_ blood, it's just not human blood, and thus not of relation to his mother. Thanks for the point, and thanks for reading!_

_ Edit: (8/8/2012) Fixed one spelling error and changed a couple things around so they made more sense. I think Dumbledore must've gotten hit with a Babbling Hex at some point, as I couldn't figure out what he was trying to say, so I simplified it. Past that, I removed most of the A/N other than the edits section (obviously)._

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	13. A First Lesson

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

* * *

><p>Chapter 12: A First Lesson<p>

* * *

><p>"What d'you suppose, looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures, Ron?" Harry looked over at Ron, who was currently brooding over a sheet of paper with his new class schedule written on it, a few spots of syrup and butter dripped on it from his breakfast, a piece of toast still sticking out of his mouth dropping crumbs as he chewed.<p>

"I d'nno 'arry." Ron swallowed as he took another, longer look at the schedule, frowning.

Hermione on the other hand seemed almost giddy, "You made it into Arithmancy, right Harry?"

"Yeah," he looked at the schedule in his hand, "Mondays after lunch, right?"

"Oh just you wait, Harry, Professor Vector is the best!" Ron snorted at Hermione's enthusiasm, "What's wrong, Ron?"

Ron shrugged, "You think any teacher that gives you loads of homework is great."

"Well _I_ am looking forward to it, though I hope we don't get so much that I have to spend every moment on it."

"What? But Harry, you were doing so well last year!"

Harry grinned, "Yeah? And so were _you_, but you learned your lesson too, didn't you?"

"Oh, well, I, I suppose. Anyway, I don't think it will be _that_ much work."

"I still can't believe you left me to batty old Professor Trelawney."

Harry shrugged, "I couldn't stand the smell, made my head spin."

"Yeah, and Snape keeps making you work with Neville. Can't believe you managed to get _that_ bad..."

Harry scratched his head, blushing a bit, "Well, at least it works; I can prepare everything, and he helps me put it together. Don't think either of us could pass without the other, now, but it works, right?"

Ron grinned, elbowing his friend in the rib, "Yeah, neither of you have blown anything up since."

"Oh Honestly, Ron, Harry's _very_ good. He's just a little colorblind."

Harry huffed, "I can see colors just fine! It's just the candles down there aren't very good."

Ron rolled his eyes at that, cutting another strip off of yet-another waffle, "And yet no one else has any trouble with it."

Harry pouted at Ron, "I'm serious, Ron, everything just looks kind of yellow in there. Don't know why, maybe it's the candles, or maybe it's something else, but there you are." Suddenly he brightened, "Anyway! Who do you think will be Hogwarts' Champion?"

Hermione looked off to some of the other tables as Ron grinned, "I beh' Freg' er' Ghorhhh n' go'a ge' ih'."

"Ron, could you swallow your food _please_? And besides, your brothers are under-age, they can't even try it."

"They will, though." Harry looked at the boys in question, who were huddling together, most likely discussing how they might befuddle the impartial Judge that would be responsible for deciding who would compete.

"And anyway, we should really be going to Herbology soon, it starts pretty soon."

Harry looked at his schedule, nibbling on a piece of toast as he did, "yeah, then Care of Magical Creatures. Wonder if Draco will manage to put an eye out this year?" He put his toast down, looking up as a wave of owls came in; Hedwig wasn't among them, and nothing was dropped on his goblet of Pumpkin Juice, so he paid it no mind.

As they walked out on the grounds toward the greenhouses, Ron and Hermione marveled at the giant flower that now dominated the grounds; it easily towered over any tree there was to be had, though that didn't stop the Whomping Willow from taking swings at it any time one of its leaves got blown too close to it.

"What is _that_?" Hermione's eyes were wide as she looked at it, certain it hadn't been there the year prior.

Ron, however, glowed at it, "D'you suppose it has anything to do with the Tournament?"

Harry shook his head with a chuckle, "Nah, it just showed up one day, and nobody can get rid of it, so it's just there now. Professor Sprout keeps tending to it, though, so I don't know for sure."

Curiosity aside, they made it to the vegetable patch, where lessons for that morning were to be held, without any problems; once there Professor Sprout pointed at several plants that looked like black, slimy slugs, with multiple little little warts on them, "Bubotubers," she explained, "You're to extract the pus. It's very valuable, so don't waste any. And wear your Dragonhide gloves; undiluted Bubotuber pus can do strange things to skin."

Some of the students complained a bit, but overall the whole process was simply more tedious than anything; by the time they were done with it each team of students had gathered at least a Liter, though Neville had managed to get a bit of it on himself and had to be taken away while hiding his arm, which appeared to be in some amount of pain, though Harry didn't get to see what the stuff had actually done to him.

When they were done Professor Sprout said something about Acne that Harry didn't listen to, instead straining his ears, trying to hear the sounds of creatures in the distance; the Forbidden Forest was always making noise, and he was always keen to see what he could pick up from the grounds.

Finally the bell rang, signaling that it was time to change classes and Harry all-but dragged his friends down to Hagrid's hut, honestly a bit impatient to find out what the large man had in store.

"Harry! Let go, we're not going to be late!" Hermione finally managed to free her hand, rubbing it as though it might be sore, though it really wasn't.

"Yeah, mate, it ain't like they're goin' anywhere, right?"

Harry grinned with a bit of embarrassment, "Sorry, I guess I'm kind of excited. Can't wait to see what Hagrid's got for us."

Hagrid, in turn, beamed at their approach, "Ah! Good ter see yeh. Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they're gonna wan' ter see this."

"See what?"

Hagrid, in response, gestured to several wooden crates, which Fang the Boarhound kept begging Hagrid to let him to, _"Come on daddy, I wanna see it, please? It keeps making funny noises, please?"_

When they got a close look, Harry made an interested, but confused face as many of his classmates sprang back in revulsion; he could hear the little... creatures chattering, but there was no intelligence to them. As far as he could tell, the entire bunch had about as much brains between them as the common garden slug.

"Jus' hatched this mornin'."

'Ah, maybe that's why?' He didn't give much credence to that idea, but he allowed that the creatures might be excessively stupid simply because they were so young.

As Harry thought to himself, Hagrid busied himself with looking over the creatures, commenting on things that some of the other, more _curious_ students had noticed, "Ah! Some of 'em 'ave got stingers! They mus' be the males, think the females 've got suckers, might be ter suck blood..."

Overall, they looked a bit like shell-less, pale, ill-tempered lobsters, with back-ends that would explode every so often; Harry had been so engrossed in investigating them, trying to find _some_ sort of order in their six-inch bodies, that he had barely noticed the Slytherins approaching, or class starting. He noticed when Ron asked him to help gather up some Frog liver to try and tempt the creatures with, though they, called 'Blast-Ended Skrewts' apparently, didn't seem too interested.

He wondered on why their legs seemed to come out of their bodies from every angle, seemingly with no order to them, and wondered if, perhaps, they might live underground? He reasoned that having legs coming out every which way might make them resistant to finding themselves upside-down, and having a Blast-End might be a good defense against something burrowing along behind them.

He scooped up some dirt and dropped it into the box that he, Ron and Hermione were in charge of; the things climbed atop the little mound he'd made, but otherwise didn't react to it other than, apparently, fighting atop it, though he couldn't tell whether they were fighting _over_ it or not, since they generally just seemed to be fighting each-other.

Curious, he pulled one out, clearing out a space on the ground before setting it down, alone. With nothing left to fight, it calmed down. It didn't seem much more interested in the food, or what 'food' they had decided the Skrewts didn't like, but it was at least not trying to fight anymore.

That, of course, struck Harry as boring, so he stuck it back in the crate. It immediately exploded its back end and rocketed through a pair of interlocked Skrewts, dislodging them and starting a whole new scuffle.

A few students, by class-time's end, had burned hands and sour faces; both Slytherin and Gryffindors alike seemed to dislike the Skrewts. Hermione defended them, saying they _might_ be useful someday, though she later secretly agreed that they ought to just stamp them all out before they get bigger.

At lunch Hermione hurried through her food, apparently keen to make it to the Library, no longer starving herself as her way of making a stand on Elf Rights; she left for the Library as soon as she was done stuffing her face full of Sprouts. Ron, although going at much the same pace as Hermione, still took much longer to finish eating his lunch, owing to having a much larger appetite, so Harry spent a bit more time sitting at the table, looking around with a bored expression on his face.

Finally, lunch was finished, and Harry and Ron went their separate ways; honestly it felt a bit... strange for the two boys to be going separately like that, and Ron complained yet-again, but in the end there was nothing to do for it.

Well, Harry suggested Ron switch to Arithmancy as well, but Ron scoffed so loudly at the idea Harry thought Mrs. Norris must have heard it, wherever she was. "No thanks, Harry, I'll keep my tea leaves over your foot-thick book, thank you."

"Your loss." Harry grinned as they finally parted ways.

It actually felt kind of sad, but it was only one class, right? Right.

* * *

><p>Professor Vector was a witch of little regard other than for her brilliant mind. She wasn't especially tall, nor especially short. Her brown hair wasn't in a tight bun like Professor McGonagall's, nor was it frizzy and unkempt like Luna Lovegood's, instead resting in a calm wave across her shoulders. She wore a robe of subdued green over her lithe frame, which was thin enough to suggest that she, much like Hermione, was willing to forgo eating in favor of studying.<p>

The Arithmancy classroom, in a similar vein, had little to distinguish it... at least in color. In manner, however, it felt rather different; there were hardly enough students in the class to be considered 'full', at just barely ten in total, and those were from all four houses. Harry felt most awkward when he realized that three of those ten were a year older than him, and spent a fair amount of time staring darkly at him.

The desks they sat at were arranged in rows, and all faced forward in a rather rigid arrangement, and a little experimentation proved that they were also charmed to be immovable, as though the perfectness of their arrangement could not be allowed to be marred. Around the grid of desks there were several tables, with counters lining the whole of the left side, two simple, single-spout sinks built into them. Everywhere were either piles of books, or odd little knick-knacks, such as a sort of globe of metal rings, which were spinning automatically, along with several things that looked like boards full of beads on metal wires. Everywhere there were rulers, measures, measuring cups, spare quills, cool-looking diagrams of various things, and books. Lots and lots of books.

Overall, it looked very normal, and would have fit nicely into a Muggle Public School. Which, of course, made it an odd sight indeed in the magical halls of Hogwarts.

Taking in the sights, Harry took a seat with an empty spot next to it, and smiled as it was quickly filled by Hermione; soon after Professor Vector looked up from her text, as though noticing the class for the first time.

"Good, we're all here." She gently closed her book, and stood up. Immediately the murmur that had been there died down, and all attention was pulled to her, as though by a potent magnetic attraction, "Now then, I'm sure you've noticed that, compared to the year previous, our ranks have thinned. Two have left for other pursuits, and one has joined us." She gestured to Harry, but didn't allow any time for the introduction to sink in as she moved away from her desk, which was positioned to the right of the room, to its center, "As there are currently no group projects planned, this will not require a regrouping of the class." She spoke calmly and authoritatively, as though used to having all attention being paid to her.

"Now as I'm sure you remember from last year, Arithmancy is not a class to be taken lightly." Hermione shuffled anticipatively as Harry noticed a few other students rolling their eyes with mild irritation, "But for all you know already, there is at least ten times as much that you _don't_." The woman looked over the faces with a somewhat bored expression, "For example." Suddenly she centered on Harry, "You, boy. You're on your house's Quidditch team, correct?" Harry nodded, confused at the sudden questioning, "And you ride a Firebolt, correct?" Again, he nodded. "The fastest broom there currently is? Or at least, _was_ at the time you got it?"

"Yes."

"Now then, can you possibly tell me just _why_ that broom is so much faster than all those that came before it?"

Hermione suddenly raised her hand, but Professor Vector shook her head, "Let Mister Potter answer the question, Miss Granger. I did ask him, after all." Hermione didn't seem all too pleased at being denied the chance to answer a question, but conceded just the same, turning to Harry curiously.

"Erm... Arithmancy?" Professor Vector smiled.

"It's true, the spells which make brooms fly have become as powerful, and potent as they now are, in large part because of a larger movement to Arithmancy for embedding spells into physical objects. Now, another question. Mr. Quincy." Another boy, one of the older students, was suddenly on the spot, "Quidditch has been played for many thousands of years, can you tell me why the brooms, so vital in such a fast competition, were not at Firebolt speeds many hundreds of years ago, despite thousands of years of spellwork?"

"Eh, Arithmancy, ma'am?"

That apparently counted as an answer, "Arithmancy is not a new field by any means, but there are many things which did not exist within it as a field until only recently. Arithmancy was little more than a curiosity until barely the last hundred years or so. Do you know why, Miss Granger?"

Harry decided, in that moment, that he had never before seen, nor was likely to again see Hermione looking quite so flabbergasted as she did in that moment, "Er, I..."

Professor Vector smiled, apparently having gotten what she'd expected, "I had hoped you might know, being Muggleborn, as it's frankly all because of Muggles." She straightened back out, looking back over the class, "Can anyone say why?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as she looked over the students gathered, Harry thinking within his own mind of several names he'd found in some of the 'Light Reading' he'd acquired. Names such as the ones that came from his Engineering book, Watt, Volta, Edison; names that came from Muggle history books, Einstein, Fermi, Hawking, and all of the other positively brilliant minds who all stood head-and-shoulders over the common mind.

"I'll tell you why. Those in the magical communities had solutions to their problems through magic, but Muggles did not. So Muggles had to think up solutions, and in doing so they solved problems that no _Wizard_ had ever even thought were _problems_. For every Dumbledore or Grindelwald, the Muggle world has had ten or more names matching people of equal, though perhaps different power, and a few who reached even higher than that. But where great wizards are powerful with magic, great Muggles are powerful in other ways." She looked over the class, as though deciding whether it were worth continuing.

"The Muggle answer to magic, as you _should_ know, is Science. Until recently, Science was little more than a curiosity. And then, over the last hundred years or so, Science has made great leaps and bounds, largely due to a very few minds, any one of whom could make the most intelligent of wizards look like fools with sticks. Arithmancy is wizarding science much like science is muggle magic. The two are linked, and though it pains a _Witch_ to say it, the Muggles have contributed far more than any Wizard, and seem ready to continue to do so.

"It is because of their advances in science that Arithmancy is as powerful as it is today. Without the Muggles, Arithmancy would still be little more than something on the level of Divination, a field with much potential but little interest." Harry actually heard Hermione scoff, "This is the big secret, and now you know. By completing my classes, in three short years you will be learning all I can teach you of the mathematical side of Muggle science. It is so complex, especially for wizards who are not used to dealing with such things, that we will not even _begin_ with the magical side of it until your sixth year. Quite frankly, you'll be hard pressed just to match your Muggle peers in proficiency with numbers in time for your OWLs."

For a moment, Harry felt as though the Professor were trying to intimidate her class, trying to make them fearful of something or other, though exactly what he couldn't tell.

Then she smiled, "However. The reward... A proficiency in Arithmancy is an almost assured way to get nearly any job you could ask for. A Mastery of it would likely land someone in the History books. Work hard..." She waved a hand in the air, pleasantly, "Well, there's no telling, is there?"

The silence from that point was telling, but Professor Vector hardly seemed to notice as she moved back to her desk, picking up her book before taking it back to the front with her, leafing it open to an apparently random page. "Now then. Although I'm sure we're all eager to start ramming our heads full of new things, we first need to ensure that they haven't _leaked_ too much over the summer. So, for the first few weeks or so, a review of what we went over last year is in order." She produced a wand from her robes and whirled it in the air, summoning several scraps of paper, which all landed unerringly on every desk in the classroom, "Complete these worksheets without opening your textbooks. They will tell us when we're all ready to proceed." There was a low groan from somewhere other than Harry or Hermione, but everyone started working, Hermione apparently giddy to be finally started.

Unsurprisingly, she finished first, followed closely by Harry. It took nearly an hour for the last worksheet to be finished otherwise. And all the while the dark looks being cast at Harry intensified, though he was amused to note that Hermione got them even more than him. It was... interesting.

Once all of the tests were 'in', the Professor took a few minutes to look them over; apparently what she saw pleased her, as a smile formed on her lips. "Good, we don't seem to have forgotten too much, most of us still remember our Algebra... yes, I'll chance it to say we'll be moving on to Geometry by next month. Haven't got much time, after all; if we're lucky we'll be touching on Trigonometry by the end of the year." She seemed immensely pleased by this, and Hermione positively glowed, which in turn made some of her classmates shrink into a sort of depressed darkness.

After all, when Hermione glows at the prospect of moving quickly, it couldn't be a good sign.

* * *

><p>"You should have seen it, Ron! Everybody spent the rest of the class looking over their shoulders at us like we had kicked their owls or something. We didn't even get any more work, Professor Vector just kept mumbling about wizards or muggles and something or other."<p>

Ron, hearing Harry's related tale, rolled his eyes, "Sounds like your kind of Professor."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Shaking his head, Ron shrugged, "Well, remember when I found you out by dad's shed, playing with tires? You went on for ten minutes about wizards and muggles not getting along." He grinned at Harry, "Sounds like she's got your number, eh?"

Harry flushed, "Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I was talking to your dad, and I guess things were worse than I expected. Did you know that the ministry once actually put serious thought into making Muggle Hunting _Legal_!? Some witch from a big important family kept buying out jurors and ministers and judges; your dad told me that it was only because of him and a few others like him that it got put down. That it was even _possible_... it just made me so mad, and I kept thinking about it, and, well-" Harry grinned sardonically as he looked Ron in the eye, "I guess you just walked in at the wrong time. Sorry 'bout that, I'm always yelling at you for no good reason."

Ron groaned silently, "Yeah, well, just so long as you do it where no one can hear, alright?" He looked over his shoulder, making sure the door to their dorm was still closed; somehow their current topic had started making him uncomfortable, which Harry didn't fail to notice, raising an eyebrow at Ron's odd behavior.

So he did the best he could come up with, he changed the subject, "So who do you think will be the Hogwarts champion for the Triwizard Tournament?"

Ron barked a laugh, "I'm banking that Fred and George find some way of entering. Mum complains they didn't get loads of OWLs, but they just didn't want'em. I'd bet they could take their NEWTs already and do alright, they'll figure it out." His grin was telling, a mixture of pride and envy at the thought of his brothers.

Harry grinned, "And if they do figure it out, will you enter?"

"Me?" Ron did a sort of half-scoff, half-snort as he shook his head, "No way, don't think I'm smart enough, I bet I'd kick the bucket at the first task. What about you?"

Harry smiled, leaning back a bit, "Well... I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't like to try." He shook his head, "But I don't think I'd enter. It's not that I don't _want_ to... I just don't want to badly enough to actually try it."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Harry, that doesn't even make sense." Harry only responded with a shrug. "Anyway, where do you suppose everybody else is at?"

Harry hrrm'd at that, "Dunno. I think Hermione's in the library still, everybody else is probably in the Common Room. Why?"

Ron shrugged, looking out their dorm's one window, which just so happened to have an excellent view of the giant plant on the grounds, "What d'you suppose that is, really?"

Harry looked out the window, following Ron's gaze, "The plant? No idea. Like I said, nobody can get rid of it, so it's just sort of there."

"Yeah..." He seemed to be thinking to himself, his face scrunching up slightly as he did so, "Still, I mean I guess you probably don't think about it, 'cause you were raised by muggles and all, but stuff like this doesn't just _happen_, even magic has limits. Little stuff happens, like Accidental Magic..." He grinned, "I bet it's got something to do with the Triwizard Tournament! Maybe not Hogwarts, but what if one of the other schools did it? Y'know, to show off?"

Harry laughed quietly, "Yeah, maybe." Harry gave the giant flower a small smile, "I kind of hope so, actually. Because otherwise, well who knows where it came from? Best thing is it's an accident, and I don't know if I want to try to fight whatever could do _that_ on accident."

Ron paled... then grinned softly, "Yeah, me either."

* * *

><p>Later that night found Harry reading from an old book; after a bit of digging in the Library, avoiding Hermione in the doing, he had managed to locate something that chronicled the history of Arithmancy and its ancient equivalent, Runescriptory. It was very interesting reading, not only because it gave a very apt description of the problems faced by those ancient forms of written magic, but because it really, truly put things in perspective.<p>

Apparently, one of the greatest reasons that really powerful rune-based magics were so rare was because learning to read and write was, itself, rare. The more powerful Magical families could afford to tutor their children before it was time for them to attend a Magical School, but for a much larger portion of both Muggle and Magical peoples, writing was, itself, almost magical in nature. It was only _after_ the founding of schools like Hogwarts, which gave standardized learning to a much larger number of people, did writing and reading become common in the Magical world. And even then, centuries passed where most correspondence was written by hired scribes, because many of the writers themselves could not read.

It took a particularly talented, and clever young witch to finally crack the code: Some five hundred years after the founding of Hogwarts one of its alumni created a spell capable of recognizing words and reacting in kind; the first spell to be created in response was an Auto-quill that could copy writing unsupervised. It was wildly successful, and within only a few years students were all able to buy their own copies of each year's class books, rather than an entire class having to share a single copy, copied on the spot but ultimately lasting only a few hours at a time; families who were capable of affording libraries were suddenly able to acquire books that would have been impossible, even for the rich to acquire otherwise. Until the Printing Press was invented several centuries later, the Copy-Quill was the fastest, most accurate and reliable way to copy entire tomes of text within days, or even hours, without needing entire armies of scribes, all of whom needed to eat, sleep, and could get tired and make mistakes.

While it didn't quite match the Printing Press' output, being limited to just barely past the speed of human speech, to the small magical population of the time it was as though an entire world of possibilities had been opened up, and the Copy-Quill quickly spread all around the world; anywhere that European traders could get to, suddenly magical writing was copy-able, and literacy was accessible.

The early Copy-Quills couldn't replicate the moving drawings that were used in many books, however, and that was a problem which required human hands to fix; attempts were made to try to affix movements to quills that allowed for easily-replicated still images, and that advancement inspired other wizards, freshly literate, to connect a similar spell to their wands in an attempt to craft a self-spelling wand; it was awkward, and rarely worked as intentioned, but it was a step in the right direction.

It took a while, but advancements in wand making, charms for self-spelling wands, and in the charms that formed the basis for Dicto-Quills and Copy-Quills advanced to the point where a specially-made wand, made to have a quill-like tip, was made that was capable of bringing all of these things together in such a way that allowed an author to write a book, complete with moving pictures, that could then be copied as many times as anyone would wish; the Quill-Wand memorized every movement, every spell, every crossed T and dotted I and replicated them all faithfully; combined with specially enchanted ink, the Quill-Wand could easily copy an entire book, which might have taken an author months, or even years to write in as little as an hour. With ordinary ink such speeds were impossible, largely because the quill had a tendency scratch and tear the parchment at such speeds, but the enchanted ink had a charm to protect the paper, and, it seemed, all problems had been solved. Colored inks came out later, but that was about as far as most people went.

During all this time, Arithmancy was slowly evolving. It was not mainstream, because it was difficult to understand, harder to master, and required knowledge and understanding rare even in a Literate Magical World. Several people found that they could take the Auto-Reading spells and, with the right patterns, cause a quill or wand to cast a spell that would be more complicated than a human could regularly do on his own. Arithmancy, or Runescriptory as it was originally dubbed, was the practice of forming words, symbols, and simple drawings on paper that would stand for movements of a wand, thus allowing spells to be cast easily just by tapping a wand to the parchment on which it was written.

In time, others came up with ways of embedding spells directly into the writing, using seals to hold magic within the parchment until it were released, and then using the symbols themselves to form that released magic. It didn't catch on, as using runes to cast spells and hold charms was not a new concept, and the old ways of doing so was deemed more useful anyway. Still, Runescriptory quietly evolved, and a small number of people began associating the power of symbols with mathematics; they would notice that the distance two runes needed to be from each-other to have a particular effect was somehow related to their size, and could be predicted with simple measurements. With the addition of a few simple computations, a spell that might have normally covered a sheet of parchment the size of a small bed could be compressed to little more than letter size, simply by changing the size of a rune to represent what it would be if it were above or below the page, with special symbols holding those runes places on the spell's level.

And as this fringe-study became more heavily based in Mathematics, the study of Mathematics became a prerequisite; this alone ensured that it remained a small curiosity, as literate or not, most wizards saw little use in numbers other than the simple math required to do commerce, much of which was handled well by the goblins with little need for the common Wizard or Witch to so much as think about it.

Wizards, to be blunt, were more interested in waving wands than drawing runes that might-or-might-not do as intended.

So it stayed that way more-or-less unchanged for centuries. One witch would make a simple advancement, and then it would be temporarily lost, until it was found again and added to an accumulated pool of understanding.

And then came the Renaissance, when Muggle learning started becoming standard, and mathematics took several great leaps. Gravity was explained and, while the laws themselves meant little to wizards, the mathematical concepts that came from that one advancement furthered Runescriptory sufficiently that it earned the modern moniker of Arithmancy; when the Goblins began greedily gobbling up all the numerical knowledge they could find, several wizards saw Arithmancy as a quick way to get a 'Head for Numbers' and get in good with the creatures who ran Gringotts, thus bringing Arithmancy into legitimacy.

Although legitimate, Arithmancy remained relatively stagnant, as new things were still difficult to come by; almost every major advancement came more as a response to discoveries in the Muggle world. Engineering on the Muggle side began to mirror Arithmancy on the Magic side, and Wizards began to truly see the potential that the original Runescriptorists had seen all those centuries ago, of self-adhering charms that stayed powerful over long periods of time, used far less energy and could accomplish tasks that wand-made charms, even combined with potions, had no chance of replicating. Brooms, previously slow and prone to failing without delicate care and constant wand-work, suddenly became reliable, smoother riding, and faster. Large enchantments that required powerful ley-lines to pull off before, could suddenly be powered with small stones, Arithmantic spells embedded in them storing, drawing, and releasing magical energies in massive quantities, yet with as much or as little delicacy as any Ward-master could want.

And, remarkably, Arithmancy became the key to unlocking written spells the world over; wards and curses written on the walls of ancient Egyptian tombs, Mayan temples, and even the truly ancient shrines from the middle and far east all featured, almost unerringly, wards with designs that fit within the rules governed by Arithmancy. The most powerful wards fit most closely, while the least powerful, not to mention the long-failed ones matched poorly or didn't match at all. Where Ancient Runes largely relied on artistic license and a lifetime of experience, Arithmancy could do the same, and often _better_, with far less investment on the part of the Wizard crafting the spell.

Thus began the modern connections between Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, with Arithmancy being taught as the 'current, powerful' way to write spells, and Ancient Runes being little more than a basis for studying existing wards. One, a new science influenced heavily by Muggles, and the other an old art that was rapidly being nearly lost to history.

Harry read the entire book that night, taking notes the entire time; near the end it showed examples of 'old' rune spells next to 'new' Arithmantic spells, and he copied them down, smiling as he noticed them glow just slightly.

Now he knew how to draw a charm to make a stone glow, much like the spell _lumos_. That was the only page of notes that he actually bothered to look at, his writing being too frantic and eyes too strongly drawn to the text that had held his attention for all those hours.

* * *

><p>History of Magic was never a very interesting class. It could have been, it really could, but Professor Binns was so very dull that a majority of students tended to fall asleep at their desks, though Binns rarely noticed.<p>

This morning, somewhat unusually, Harry was counted among the students to drift off. It wasn't until Binns had packed up and gone back to wherever he went when he wasn't droning tonelessly- er, teaching that Ron shook him awake.

His dream had been nice, a nice dream about climbing a giant tree, ignoring the fact that he could fly. The moment he'd dozed off he'd spotted a tree so big around that he couldn't tell where the other side might be, and so tall that it reached into the clouds; intrigued, he set to climbing it. He hadn't reached the top by the time Ron put a hand on his shoulder and shocked him awake, "Huh? Wazza?" He gave Professor Binns' desk a blank, confused look, "Where'd the tree go?"

Ron sighed, "Harry you fell asleep." He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, "Not that I bl-blaaaaayyyyhhhme you." He stretched to work a kink out of his shoulder, "Binns is so dull, I don't know how _anyone_ can stay awake."

Hermione huffed, "Well you just don't pay proper attention do you?"

Harry looked at the girl, noting the tired look in her eyes, and smiled, "Aren't you gonna go to the library?"

She raised her nose ever-so-slightly, "Well of course, but I was wondering why _you_ were so tired. You _never_ fall asleep in class! Well, not... anymore." Her eyes darted back and forth, as though looking for eavesdroppers that Binns hadn't put to sleep.

Harry laughed, scratching the back of his head, "Ah, well, I found a book on ancient Arithmancy and Runescriptory, and I couldn't stop 'till I'd read the whole thing. So I forgot to sleep." Ron gave a sort of exasperated noise that fully expressed his disbelief that _anyone_ could simply 'forget to sleep'.

Hermione gave him a measuring look, then seemed to accept the explanation, "Well, fine, so long as you're alright. I'll go to the Library, see you two at lunch!" And with that, she was off.

Ron and Harry stood outside the classroom door, watching as Hermione shot down the corridors toward the Library. "What d'you suppose she's doing, anyway?"

Harry shrugged, "I saw her with a bunch of law books yesterday; didn't want to ask, though, so I didn't. Pince probably would have kicked us out if we started talking, anyway."

"Right." They turned around to go the other direction, but just as they did they caught sight of Professor McGonagall coming 'round the corner; she spotted the two of them and, before they could make a get-away, or figure out _why_ they should make a get-away, she had made her way to them.

"Ah Mr. Weasley, I caught up with you. I'm going to need to speak with you."

Ron paled, "What'd I do? I didn't do anything, did I?" He looked at Harry, who was honestly a bit amused by Ron's reaction, though McGonagall waved off his concerns.

"It's nothing, you're not in trouble." She turned to lead the way, "Come, we shouldn't stand about talking in the halls, and for Merlin's sake calm down, you're not in trouble."

"You just caught him by surprise, Professor, he'll get over it." Harry laughed as he elbowed Ron in the side, "He'll get over it. Where are we going?"

McGonagall caught the byplay between the two, but largely ignored it in favor of staring at Harry, as though weighing her options. Finally she seemed to come to a decision, "I think it would be best for now if it were just Mr. Weasley and I, Mr. Potter. I trust you can stay out of trouble?"

Harry thought about that, then smiled, leaning back a bit with both hands behind his head, "I could probably find a new book to read. Right, Ron?" He looked sideways at the boy, whose eyes rose as he whispered his plaintive cry.

"I'm surrounded by bookworms!" Harry laughed, and Ron escaped with Professor McGonagall, leaving Harry alone.

Which, in hindsight, may not have been the best of ideas.

* * *

><p>After a bit of thought, Harry had decided that he'd fulfilled his quota of Arithmancy for the day, and thus had no need for further reading on the subject. Harry was, however, still deathly curious about Hagrid's Skrewts, which were so strange that Harry couldn't help but sneak back to have a look at them. No one noticed him sneaking across Campus, either, because he had wrapped a single band of black cloth around his nose and adopted a sneaking posture, which was sure to make him nearly invisible to the untrained eye... or just a little bit off-looking to anyone who managed to look in his general direction.<p>

No one did though, which may have been the _second_ unfortunate circumstance for that day, as it meant that he made it to the Skrewts unaccosted.

Once there he started playing with them, sifting his hand through them like one might sift one's hand through a puddle of mud, looking for something; he then changed into Flash and climbed into the box and started picking them up, curiously putting them to his face to get a closer look.

They kept exploding on him, and he wondered if he could do the same somehow... so he transformed into one of them.

That was a rather strange experience, and if he were asked to describe it he would say... it was rather strange.

A few Skrewts shrieked at him, and he shrieked back, raising his many limbs and tackling one of them until it landed on its rear; the other one's back-end exploded and threw Harry back, where he landed on another Skrewt and _it_ exploded, making the two of them get in a fight, where Harry spent more time on top than bottom.

As Harry was just crawling over-top the other Skrewt, a gigantic face loomed over the box; Harry didn't see it, not having eyes, but he felt it when something brushed up against him, making him twitch, exploring it blindly with his many limbs until it suddenly grasped around his little body and picked him up. This was, apparently, enough of a shock to make his end explode, which caused Fang the Boarhound to yelp loudly and drop him, a sound that made Harry change back to normal and crawl over the edge back into the box, watching over the edge of it as Fang ran off to parts unknown, whining loudly and attracting Hagrid's attention.

"Fang! I tol' yeh, don' go gettin' inter them boxes!" Harry felt sorry for Fang, who was now cowering before the large man, but then he felt guilty; he probably wasn't supposed to be crawling around in the boxes, either.

Suddenly some sort of bird swooped down at him from out of nowhere, snatching one of the Skrewts that had crawled on his tail, causing it to explode without warning as Harry yelped loudly and jumped out of the box, "Mew-mewmew!" He stumbled around on the ground on three feet, hopping oddly as he grasped blindly behind him, trying to grab his tail to fan it off, tears in his eyes; that had really hurt!

He hardly noticed as Hagrid plodded over to him, looking at him with an expression of incredible bewilderment before realization dawned in his eyes, "Harry?"

Harry finally grabbed his tail and managed to get it in his mouth, sucking on it for a second, trying to cool it down. He then huffed angrily, "Mew-meeeewmew Mew!" He tried to fly back into the box, but a large hand stopped him.

"Harry! What are yeh' doin' here? What's wrong?"

Harry fumed, unable to sufficiently put into Mew's exactly how he felt, "Memew mew? Mememeeewww Mew!" He then transformed into some sort of round ball and, as Hagrid tried to carry him away, bewildered at what might be going on, he exploded, throwing Hagrid painfully to his back, drawing attention to the man's hut for that one second, and sending Fang the Boarhound yelping back indoors.

Harry grinned as he changed back, floating a few feet off the ground with a strange look in his eyes, "Mmeew mew-mew ME~..." He then passed out, totally spent.

* * *

><p>A few smelling salts was all it took for Hagrid to bring Harry back to the world of the living, causing the kitten to snort almost painfully and sit up blearily, flailing in his place in one of Hagrid's gigantic chairs, which seemed even larger at his smaller-than-normal size. "Meeww?"<p>

"Ah, all righ', Harry?"

Harry jumped at the noise, flinching back as he floated away, looking at the source to find Hagrid looking worriedly down at him, notable burn marks on his face, a small jar of smelling salts being closed between his hands. "Mew?"

Hagrid grinned, then turned more serious, "What're yeh' doin' here, Harry?"

Harry looked around, trying to figure out where he was, and then memories came back to him and he floated back to the chair, looking down as he blushed, scratching the back of his head just behind one of his ears, "Meeewww..." _"[I'm sorry, I was curious.]"_

Hagrid waved it off, "Ah, it's nothing. Jus' let me know when yer' comin' from now on, all righ'?" He gave the Mew a pointed look, "And no more _explodin'._"

_"[Ah, yeah, sorry about that. They blew up on my tail, I got mad.]"_

Hagrid laughed, "So yeh blew _yerself_ up?"

_"[Yeah, I guess!]"_ He giggled, both hands on his mouth.

Shaking his head, Hagrid put the salts bottle away, "Yeh don't look like yeh could do nothin' like that. Yeh sure _hit_ awful hard."

Harry shrugged, _"[Yeah, I guess.]"_

"So what were yeh doin' here, anyway?"

Harry looked up at the man, grabbing the ends of his feet, _"[I wanted another look at the Skrewts. They're kinda weird.]"_

"Where're Ron and 'ermione?"

_"[Ron's with Professor McGonagall, and Hermione is in the Library.]"_

"Alright. Well, since you're here, yeh' wanna keep tryin' t' figure out what the Skrewts like?"

_"[Sure!]"_

He laughed again, "Jus' change back first, an' don't go blowin' them up; kinda want ter have some left fer next lesson."

Harry blushed as he changed back, "Hahah, yeah, okay, sorry." Hagrid smiled.

* * *

><p>"Oh Honestly Harry, can't we leave you alone for ten minutes?"<p>

Harry blushed a bit as he scratched his chin, "Well, on the plus side Hagrid says I can come help him any time I want."

"What was it like, though?" Harry looked at Ron, question in his eyes, "Y'know, bein' a Skrewt."

Harry shrugged as Hermione huffed, "It was strange. I could hardly tell what was going on, they mostly just kept fighting. I don't think they like each other."

Ron rolled his eyes, "I could've told you _that_."

"Well, I just keep thinking they might eat if there just wasn't anything around to fight with. Like if there were only one to a box instead of a hundred."

"Thirty." Harry and Hermione both stopped, Hermione with a fork still in her mouth, to stare at Ron, "What? ... I counted!" Harry laughed and Hermione went back to her accelerated eating.

Finally she finished and stood up suddenly, "I'm going to the Library!" And with that she was gone, which left Harry alone with Ron.

"So Ron." Ron looked up from his plate, which he had filled with any number of different edible things, "What'd Professor McGonagall want?"

Ron actually ducked his head a bit at this, mumbling below his breath, just loud enough for Harry to hear, "Animagus Training."

"Huh? Why?"

Frowning, Ron remembered, "She said it shouldn't take more than a year, might be something wrong." He scowled at his plate again, "Wants to meet every Tuesday, 'till I get it."

"Oh... No more late nights, then?" Harry smiled, though Ron only rolled his eyes.

He considered that, ate a few bites of whatever random food he'd shoveled unceremoniously onto his plate, then smiled with a sigh, "Yeah, I guess; I could use the sleep, anyway, right?" Harry only smiled.

* * *

><p>Potions with the Slytherins came just after lunch, and was about as pleasant as Potions with the Slytherins was ever expected to be.<p>

Snape Sneered, pointed at instructions on a writing board at the front of the class, told everyone to get started, and then stood in front of the table where Harry and Neville sat, watching them like some sort of pale vulture, just waiting for them to mess it up.

And, as happened far too often, the moment he had gone too deeply into the dungeons, colors just started washing out to Harry's eyes. He could see objects just fine, but away from the fires they were little more than shades of gray, and the fires themselves made everything come up in various shades of orange. Usually this only meant that Harry missed color cues, mixing in the next ingredient to a blue potion when it should have been purple, but preparation of the materials also periodically suffered, such as when two root-like plants, both of which looked similar in every way other than color, were both in the same ingredients pile. He still remembered Snape yelling at him about using the 'RIPE' one, saying the unripe ones would make a potion to make someone's ears fall off.

Harry couldn't help but to note that Goyle's ears had fallen off by the end of class, and Snape had merely spelled the potion away and brushed the large boy to the Hospital wing. The levels of favoritism to which the man went...

Well, it was nasty, and that Tuesday afternoon was no different. "Longbottom, be sure not to allow Potter to mess up the Bycander Root; if your potion explodes you'll _both_ be doing detention with me." Snape walked away, shaking his head and muttering to himself, "I may as well write it up now."

The Bycander Root turned out to have three major parts to it. The outer, blue part was rather squishy and, when squeezed, produced a blue slime that smelled strongly of swamp-water. Inside that was a layer of green, which was of a tone similar enough to the blue that Harry really did need Neville's help telling the difference. The hardest, though was the innermost white core; not because it was hard to distinguish from the blue or green, but because it was softer than the green, yet the instructions claimed that 'The White Core is NOT to be damaged in ANY WAY'.

The bluish layer needed to be pulled away without pulling away the green, then the blueish goop had to be extracted; the green layer had to be ground up and set to the side, and finally the white core had to sit in the bluish goop for several days, when the whole cauldron would become a sort of purple with brown lumps that had to be mashed out before they could continue.

Harry did his best to be extra careful with everything he had, especially with Snape practically breathing down his neck, until the classroom suddenly erupted into noise, Crabbe grabbing at his hair, which was on fire.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, the instructions say Not to harm the White Core! It's Highly Flammable!" He waved his wand and both the fire and the halved white core that had started it disappeared, along with about half of Crabbe's hair, which had burned away. Snape suddenly turned, "Mr. Weasley, prepare a new root for Mr. Crabbe while he sees Madam Pomfrey about his burns."

"What? But-!"

"No buts! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

The atmosphere became rather tense, but Ron did as told, complaints aside, though the vein on his forehead pulsed rather hard each time Malfoy would nudge him in the side, trying to get him to nick the core and have his face burned off.

Harry couldn't help but to think that if Malfoy had succeeded, Ron would have been told to wait for the end of class before going to Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, just before they were expected to be going to bed, Harry had his borrowed ArithmancyRunescriptory book out and was flipping through it once more, trying to see if there was something he might have missed, but not finding anything.

"Is that the book you spent all night reading, Harry?" Harry looked up to see Hermione looking down at him with interest.

"Yeah. I think I've already read it all though, not seeing anything new."

"Well, could I borrow it, then?"

"Sure, you want my notes, too?"

"Sure, that would be wonderful." Harry nodded with a smile and handed the girl his notes from the previous night.

"I think I'll try to actually get some sleep tonight, though." Harry got up and turned toward the boys' dorms.

"Wow, they're glowing. What language is this?"

"Huh? Oh, I dunno, whatever it was in the book." Harry shrugged, "Anyways, good luck, I'm gonna turn in early."

"Good night, Harry." Hermione looked through the stack of notes, which had all obviously been scribbled in a hurry; there was only some thirty or so sheets of parchment, but nearly all of them were covered in little drawings, notes with lines and numbers to represent angles, little illegible scribbles at the very edges, and it all appeared to be in various forms of rune writing; the first few pages were normal English, but as he'd gone through the book Harry had sprinkled in different shapes he'd seen in its pages, and by the time he'd gotten to the end the letters looked more like a constant stream of stylized circles than anything, with hardly any visible spaces.

That wasn't the oddest thing to strike Hermione as strange, though. The oddest bit was that Harry's notes were glowing.

All of them.

Odd.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 12<p>

* * *

><p>Several people pointed out that I forgot to add Arceus to the list of Pokemon that Harry can't transform into: They're right, that's another one Harry can't transform into. I forgot Arceus partly because my 'Official' Pokedex doesn't list him, and partly because of how he relates to the others; I took him as a given, so forgot to mention him. My bad. XD As for Darkrai, because of where he sits in my version of the Pokemon Pantheon, Darkrai actually IS available to him. Just don't expect it to actually happen.<p>

And now a complaint that has nothing whatsoever to do with this story, or anything else, really. I recently got a phone call on my cell phone. "Hello! This is a call in regards to your current credit card account-" and I hung up, shouting displeasurably at the phone as I did so, telling the rather stupid people "I don't have a credit card!" Because I don't.

Yeah, those things annoy me enough to complain about it publicly. I still remember the one about the "Vehicle Manufacturer's Warranty may have expired-" on my twenty year old vehicle. Really, y'think? Stupid automated things.

_Edit: (8/8/2012) Changed very little other than to substantially shorten the A/N. As usual._

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	14. Disenchanted

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

Fourth of July delayed it first, then the purchase of a new car, obsessing over a new game, and loooooots of writer's block. I'm shamed to say that during the interim between this chapter and the previous one, I got more writing for other stories done than I did for this one. I offer my sincere apologies to all those who have been made to wait for such a long time... except for those who flame or get angry and start yelling; I can't support that. Important notes at the end, as usual.

* * *

><p>Chapter 13: Disenchanted<p>

* * *

><p>Harry, as was normal, was only able to stay asleep for a couple of hours or so before he woke back up, yawning his way out of bed. He looked around the shared dorm to find that his dorm-mates were all asleep, so he silently made his way out so as not to disturb them.<p>

For a few moments, the amount of time it took him to make it to the common room, he wondered on what he ought to do with the rest of his night. Trying to sleep it away would be a useless and, let's face it, uncomfortable affair; he had no love of bed sores, even if the Hogwarts beds were much kinder to his back than the odd contraption that the Dursleys still made him sleep on.

He supposed he could wander Hogwarts' halls, hoping to ward off Mrs. Norris somehow... but decided against it, instead feeling as though he wanted to be outside for a while; a small, mischievous part of his mind suddenly considered going to see the Skrewts again, but the rest of him realized that he would have plenty of time for that later, seeing as Hagrid had invited him to help out whenever he didn't have class. Of course, Hagrid hadn't actually explicitly said whether it was Harry or Hagrid who was to not have class, so Harry assumed it to mean anytime he, himself, was not in a class.

An extra pair of hands, especially ones that could knock the giant of a man on his bum, might be helpful in keeping students safe, right?

Wait, if there were students around, he wouldn't be able to become Flash. Bugger.

Waving off his other thoughts, Harry made his way out of Gryffindor tower, ignoring the tired gibberish that the Fat Lady gave to his back, and to one of the many corridors that sported a window along the way; he opened the window, transformed, flew out, and closed it again from the outside, and then was free.

Flying over the grounds he gave the whole area a calm look, as though assuring himself that it was still there and still in one piece, and then flew off toward the Forbidden Forest.

If Hogwarts was Harry's home away from home, then the Forbidden Forest would have to have been his surrogate Playground, or perhaps more appropriately his second Backyard. In Harry's mind though, there was little distinction between Hogwarts and the Forbidden forest. The two were practically one, a relationship which Harry, really, gave very little thought to, if any at all.

All he knew was that the Forbidden Forest was fun to run through, and that he could pick fights with some of the creatures in it if he so wanted.

Well, he didn't call it 'Picking Fights' in his head, though really that's what it was, rather he just thought he was playing with things for a bit of exercise.

Tonight, though, was different. Aragog and his brood had spread out a bit further than usual, and the change in territory forced Harry to habitually fly around in fast circles, searching out the spiders who would skitter away the moment they saw him. He supposed that they just understood that he didn't like them; Hagrid's pet and Magical Creatures or not, they _had_ tried to eat him.

It didn't even cross his mind that it could be the giant boulder he was carrying around with him, glaring at any eight-legged thing that dared come too close to him that was scaring them off. Heck, he didn't even know why he'd grabbed it, he just had.

In the back of his mind Harry considered just going straight into spider territory and seeing how many of them he could squish before he had to run away, but that thought made him shake his head; they were big, had hard shells, and numbered in the hundreds. They would get him eventually, no matter how small or fast (or strong) he was. So instead he resolved to just deal with their presence like all the other Creatures did.

True, he'd have loved to stamp them out, but he probably wasn't strong enough for that just yet, and besides Hagrid might be sad if he did.

'Wait, is that what the rock is for?' He suddenly stared at the rock in his hand-like paws, only just realizing it was there. It had occurred to him that he _could_ use it to smack a few spiders that got out of line, but honestly, he just thought he wanted to play catch with it or something. Of course just one year ago he would have... reacted poorly to having a three or four hundred pound boulder fly at him, but that fact didn't necessarily register to the little pink kitten known as Flash.

Or to the boy named Harry.

Dropping the subject, Harry decided inwardly that the spiders had been warned enough and moved on. He didn't really know, nor care where he was going; really he was just making lazy, growing circles around the school, stopping here or there to sniff this, poke that, climb this, fight that.

It wasn't until the moon came out in force and drew his attention that he noticed something... new.

From a distance it looked like some sort of pile of stones, arranged something like a pillar. When he got closer, he found that it was more like a little house... a house with a very tall base, but a house just the same; the front had some sort of wooden door that opened on both sides, and which happened to be lodged open, as though inviting anyone inside.

Curious, he looked it over closely. He'd heard of religious offering pedestals, or something of the sort, and he supposed that was what this was, though who had built it or for what deity, he didn't know.

He knew, though, that it hadn't been there hardly a scant few days before, so it had been made recently; it looked new, too, so that must have been the case. He didn't know who had built it, but someone had.

He considered it closely for a moment, small smile building as he did so. Someone was looking for protection. Protection from what? He didn't know, but since it was in the forest, it must have been more dangerous than the forest itself, which was pretty dangerous already. Harry knew that his destiny was to stop Voldemort from regaining power, or failing that to somehow stop him... so he smiled, nodded affirmatively, circled the curiosity a couple of times, then flew off in the direction he'd been going before stopping.

He didn't notice the centaur watching him go, nor the fact that, calm exterior aside, the centaur's heart was beating about as fast as it had ever gone.

The centaur, once alone again, mused to himself that he didn't wish to repeat that moment... ever if he could help it. The suspense had been too much.

* * *

><p>Professor Moody was, as Harry suspected, rather a sour character. He was an interesting study, as his first class with the man proved, but didn't seem too keen on appearing joyful and open.<p>

Which, really, would have been just fine if not for the aura of bad smells that followed him around. To be honest the man simply put Harry on edge, as though he were surrounded by Dark Magic.

He allowed that, as a hunter of Death Eaters, he had probably been exposed to plenty of Dark Magic, and his paranoia allowed it to stink into his aura. It was fine, he decided, that it was that way.

Harry nearly fled, though, when the man demonstrated the Unforgivable Curses: Imperius, the Mind-Control curse; Cruciatus, the Pain-Inflicting curse; and _Avada Kedavra_, the Killing Curse.

Specifically, something about the green light of the third one just... set Harry on edge, though he was thankfully nowhere near as much of a mess as Neville had been when he witnessed the Cruciatus. It was almost as though the boy had experience with it or something, and seeing it brought back bad memories. Though considering that, from what Harry knew, Neville would have been one year old when Voldemort disappeared, he didn't think there was much chance of that.

Moody redeemed himself later, in Harry's eyes, by helping Neville cope with his pain; he got the boy thinking about plants, and praised him. Really, it was almost enough to make poor Neville cheery, as impossible as that might be.

Fred and George, on the other hand, seemed to be somewhat withdrawn; another impossible scenario if ever there was one. Harry didn't pry, but he got the feeling that either they were trying far too hard to find ways of aging themselves past seventeen, or were unhappy about something.

Not that he really cared if they managed to do it, but Harry really hoped they were simply working on how to make themselves seem seventeen, as he _really_ didn't want to think about Fred and George being unhappy about something.

There was a point at which Hermione finally came out and simply told Ron and Harry what she'd been working all those extra hours in the Library for.

"Spew?"

"No! Not _spew_! S.P.E.W.! The Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare!" Hermione glowed as she showed her brand new badge, which held these letters.

Ron sat, dumbstruck for a moment before speaking, "Alright, what for?" Harry, curious, came over from where he was reading from his Arithmancy book, to where moments ago Ron had been cycling through star-charts trying to figure out how Mars was going to affect him for the next month, work that had been thoroughly interrupted by Hermione planting several stacks of boxes right next to him.

Hermione straightened up, as though to give a speech, "Our short-term goals are to secure fair wages and working conditions for House Elves. Our long-term aims include changing the laws about wand use for Magical Creatures, and getting an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."

There was a moment of silence, during which Harry got the feeling Ron was rolling his eyes behind closed eyelids, then Ron asked, "And how many members do you have?"

"Well, assuming you two join, three." She held out a pair of badges to the two boys, both of whom only stared.

Finally, Ron, likely feeling as though there were simply no saying 'No' to Hermione, took a badge with a heavy sigh, which left Harry.

Harry looked at the badge, then Ron, and finally Hermione before turning to the badge again, looking off into a corner, and shaking his head, "Hermione..." He could sense her cheer falter just a bit, "If you can get a couple of House Elves to join, then I'll join too."

"What? Harry, why?"

He shrugged, "Well, you've got to be sure they really want it, right? Besides, you need an elf to put in the Ministry, right?"

Hermione wilted slightly, "But... I was kind of hoping _you_ would help with that..."

He shook his head, ignoring the shocked look Ron was giving him, "Nah, I spend more time in the Forest than in the Castle, I don't think I've even _seen_ any House Elves yet." He laughed lightly, tilting his head before quieting down, "Well, other than Dobby."

"Yeah, that would be a right disaster if _he _joined spew-" Hermione hissed a correction, which Ron ignored, "-he'd probably spell the Badges to sparkle and say how _great_ the _Great Harry Potter_ is..." Harry chuckled, causing Ron to turn his eyes on him with a grin, "Or make Bludgers go after people we don't like?" This time Harry simply laughed.

Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to get her fire back, "Of course! So it's settled then! We'll just recruit a few House Elves! Maybe we could even have some sort of House Elf Revolution!"

Ron frowned, "Hermione-" he was interrupted, though, when Harry put a hand on his shoulder.

"Good luck with that."

"What? But Harry, aren't you coming?"

"Nah, I've gotta make sure Aragog isn't sending his children off to attack the Centaurs again or something." At that remark Ron suddenly paled, eyes going wide as he gripped the edge of the table.

"Harry, you can't tell me... you're going out there with those... those, bloody giant _spiders!?_" Hermione hissed at him about language, but again Ron ignored her, instead focusing on Harry, who merely shrugged.

"Yeah, well, that's where they live. I'd love to just stamp them all out, but I don't think I'm strong enough yet. 'Sides, I think Hagrid would be upset."

"But Harry! _Spiders!_" Ron was so pale it struck Harry as comical, making him grin.

"Yeah, I don't like them either, but they're sort of afraid of Flash for some reason."

Hermione didn't seem too impressed, "So they're a bunch of spiders, I don't see what the fuss is about."

Ron suddenly turned a manic look to the girl, "Hermione, they're _huge_! Big as horses, Hippogriffs even! Maybe as big as a _house_!"

"Oh please, you're exaggerating." Ron spluttered at this, but Harry laughed.

"Well, Ron _does_ have that one thing that makes him afraid of spiders..."

"What? What thing?"

"Y'know, that thing that means you're afraid of spiders."

"What, you mean Arachnophobia?"

"Yeah, that." Harry nodded.

"Oh, well that would explain it. I _thought_ it was odd how Ron reacted to _Engorgio_ more than the Cruciatus." Hermione seemed satisfied with that explanation, though Ron continued to splutter.

Finally Ron gave up trying to talk sense into Harry, and instead began trying to talk sense into Hermione, "Hermione, spew will never work, the House Elves will_ never_ go for it! They _like_ being enslaved!" Hermione's expression fell and she quickly stood up.

"Good night Ron, Harry, I'll see you two tomorrow. Be up early, alright?" She then left, giving little indication that she'd heard Ron's pleas.

Harry suppressed a laugh, "Good night Ron, good luck with your-" he snuck a glance at the boy's work "-Fire breathing exercises." Ron only grumbled, gathering his things up as Harry walked out the door, paying no attention to the Fat Lady's mumblings.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks were much the same as the first few days: Harry would often spend more time outside than inside, Ron continued making up predictions for his Divinations class, and Hermione continued going on about spew ("S.P.E.W.!"). Her attempts at recruiting a House Elf into the fold were met first with skepticism by anyone who overheard her plans, then with chagrin when she finally did manage to summon an Elf to hear her plans.<p>

Personally, Harry held no illusions that the Elf's refusal and mild rudeness, which for a House Elf would be considered to be on par with outright hostility, would actually deter Hermione from her goal.

At one point Sirius mailed him with the revelation that he would be 'coming up there to talk with Dumbledore'; Harry considered telling the man about the dreams he'd had over the summer, and about how his scar would ache when he awoke from one, but saw no point to it: They'd stopped, so he stopped thinking about them.

So instead he simply resolved himself to looking forward to having a chance to see Sirius again.

Their classes, on the other hand, were getting harder and harder, particularly Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Potions because... well, blast-it he _still_ couldn't reliably distinguish yellow from white in that poor lighting!

As for DADA, Professor Moody had apparently decided to up the ante: "Over the next few weeks you'll each come up here, one by one, and I'll be putting the Imperius on you, so you'll know what it feels like; know what it's like to be completely controlled, and see if any of you can resist its effects." The tone in his voice when he said this, as well as the look in his eye, suggested that he didn't think it a very high possibility that any of them would resist it.

"But Professor, didn't you say it was illegal?" Hermione's voice quivered just slightly, reflecting the shock bouncing around the room already, "That, to use it against a human-"

"Dumbledore thinks you're ready." The man clunked forward a step, his wooden leg resounding against the stone floor, "Wants you to know what it feels like. If you'd rather find out when it's for real - when someone's putting it on you to completely control you - that's fine by me. You're excused. Off you go." He waved a hand carelessly toward the door, but Hermione only went slightly pink, mumbling about not wanting to leave, making Ron and Harry share a grin: There was no way Hermione would miss such an important lesson.

For a while Moody would call students up one by one, as he said: Dean Thomas hopped around the room three times while singing the National Anthem, followed by Parvati Patil being made to act like a squirrel and then Neville performed a series of acrobatic maneuvers that he'd never have been able to pull off normally. And then Moody turned his eyes on Harry. "Potter, you're next."

Harry wasn't really sure whether he ought to be nervous or not: He _was_, he just wasn't sure exactly why. He was half afraid he wouldn't be able to fight it off and would end up dancing on the table or something. He was also half afraid he'd be able to fight it off and be seen as different, yet again.

Oh well, best take the snake by the fangs, so he took his place at the front of the class, closing his eyes and only slightly tense as he waited for Moody to cast the curse.

Moody didn't waste any time. "_Imperio._"

Suddenly Harry felt... something. He almost felt as though he should be looking around for something, though he didn't know what it might be; he reasoned that that was how the curse felt, so merely stood there, waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly he heard something, _'Jump on the desk.'_ He frowned, was that it? He opened his eyes to turn around and complain to Professor Moody when something unexpected happened.

To Harry's perspective it was as though he had taken the curse and just shrugged it away, but for the rest of the class it was sudden pandemonium: The instant Harry's eyes opened everyone that managed to get a glimpse of them suddenly found themselves washed in a sea of pink light... and every single one of them, nearly half the class all-told suddenly tried to jump onto Professor Moody's desk all at once.

This, of course, didn't go over so well, as most of them were currently entangled in their own seats and managed only to bring desks, chairs, and other students down to a painful meeting with the floor. Within seconds the room was in shambles with at least three students standing atop Professor Moody's desk, Moody staring in shock, Harry staring in confusion, and the rest of the students who weren't still trying to get atop the desk were simply staring, wide-eyed.

After a few more moments a total of five students were standing atop the desk; after a few moments longer they suddenly started jumping up and down on it, as though the spell had decided to simply keep going with the last command, a command that only Harry had honestly heard.

Odd shouts and confused noises started filling in the space between the sounds of many feet jumping repeatedly on the Professor's desk, including Hermione complaining "What's going on?"

Suddenly Moody apparently decided to take control of the situation, "_ALRIGHT!_" Harry felt the spell still flowing into him suddenly break off, "_ENOUGH!_" Suddenly everybody who'd been controlled stopped, all at once, and one even fell off the desk: Parvati had fallen over backwards and hit her head rather hard, causing a shriek from Lavender Brown, who had escaped the whole thing because she'd been preoccupied with her Divinations work at the time.

"Alright, alright, everybody up, you heard me, stand up!" Everybody reluctantly did so as Moody made the rounds, finally finding Parvati, who seemed to be unable to stand quite right and was holding herself up by leaning against the desk she'd just fallen from, eyes unfocused. He fingered the back of her head, finding it bloody, "Weasley!" He barked and the boy, who'd just gotten off the desk himself, jumped suddenly, "Take Miss Patil to the Medical wing, and make sure she doesn't try to go to sleep; head wound, very dangerous. Never, _never, __**ever**_ fall asleep with a head wound. _**EVER!**_" He barked this at the class, half of whom flinched at his tone, dangerous and serious as it was. "Just a moment, first." He mumbled something under his breath and Parvati's eyes focused a little better, "A little first aid, but you'd best get there right quick and have Pomfrey look you over."

Harry watched all of this silently until it finally struck him, 'He hasn't shouted 'Constant Vigilance' yet...'

Suddenly Moody turned to stare at him, "All of you to your seats, other than Mr. Potter." Harry's back straightened at the look in the man's natural eye, his magical one whirring madly in its place.

"Professor?" The nervous feeling in his gut intensified, so much that it was hard not to simply flinch back just from looking at him.

"I want you..." he frowned, as though contemplating what he wanted to say, "Describe... what you just felt. All of it."

Harry thought that an odd request after what had just happened, but he inwardly shrugged, "Well, Professor, I felt a little nervous as I stood here, and then when you cast the curse I felt... well, like I was being watched over, like I should look for a pair of eyes somewhere just over my shoulders. And then I heard you say 'Jump on the desk', and I was going to ask you if that's what it ought to be like, but never got the chance: Before I could ask everybody was already jumping around, as though you'd cast it on them and not me."

Whispers started flying around the room at this, though Moody himself was silent. When he finally spoke it was with a withdrawn, quiet, and deadly serious voice, which seemed to rattle out from somewhere deep in his chest, "I don't think I can recall anyone throwing off the Imperious quite so... violently. That's a special talent you've got there, Potter." Suddenly he grinned, a dangerous-seeming grin that made Harry back away a step, "I'd like to see someone try to control _you_ then! You see!? It _can_ be fought! And you'd all best learn to do so, else you're liable to end up like miss Patil, or worse! _CONSTANT VIGILANCE!_" No one flinched at his sudden shout, their nerves already frayed too much to have enough energy for such a reaction.

"Take your seat, Potter. Granger! You're next!" As Harry took his seat he passed by Hermione, now looking far more nervous than anyone had so far. She got off easy, though: She merely did a little ballet and then took her seat.

Things in DADA continued in that vein for quite some time: Homework was assigned for everyone to research how to resist the Imperius. This on top all of the other work that everyone was receiving had started to fray quite a few nerves. Ron started complaining more loudly than before, his secret sessions with Professor McGonagall seeming to stress him even more than the others, while Hermione was again becoming somewhat more quiet and withdrawn.

Harry, on the other hand, merely took some of his work with him out into the forest. If anyone had happened across him out there they would have been in for quite the sight, finding a small pink cat-like creature humming calmly atop a log transfigured into a table, working lightly at piles of books and sheets of parchment.

Harry was, as seemed oddly appropriate to Ron, one of the few who didn't complain about the workload: For one it seemed that Harry only complained about really useless things, like not being allowed to fly or how stupid it was that people kept expecting him to be special; classwork always seemed to come naturally to Harry, as though he would hardly even be bothered to think very hard about it. For another, Harry only had to sleep for two hours, while everyone else needed a full eight to stay in good condition; a couple weeks of four or five hour nights were quickly starting to show in Ron's expression and the colors of his face, which were becoming more numerous and less healthy over time. It actually got so bad that Professor McGonagall, despite insisting they need to be ready for their OWL's, let up on Ron's extra-curriculars.

Privately he revealed that McGonagall figured him to be right in thinking something was missing, and with no idea what that 'something' might be, she'd simply let him go with a recommendation he keep trying it whenever he could get a private moment to do so. Harry gave his condolences, though Ron was just happy to have more time to catch up on his sleep.

After several weeks had come and gone, while Harry's Arithmancy class was just getting into basic Geometry, a posting had gone up just outside of the Great Hall announcing that the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would be arriving the afternoon of Friday the thirtieth of October, and that all students were to be on the grounds as of six o'clock that afternoon. From that point on rumors turned from Harry's odd accident in DADA straight to the upcoming new arrivals; Harry was glad to no longer be the center of attention again, but neither was he especially keen to discuss the other schools.

As he put it to Ron the afternoon of the Wednesday before, "I'm not going to be competing, so what does it matter?"

Ron's face actually visibly wilted at that, "C'mon mate, don't you want to? Even a _little_?"

Harry shrugged, shaking his head 'no', "No. Besides, if I did, you know what would happen? Everybody'd start pointing at me in the halls again, whispering behind my back, probably call me a cheater or some such rubbish. Probably get Dumbledore in trouble somehow." Harry shook his head decisively, leaning back into his chair in the Common Room, giving Ron's Wizarding Chess board a lazy look as he contemplated his next move, mind obviously not on the game.

"Oh come on, think about it. A thousand Galleons?"

Harry sighed, "Ron, really, there are times when I'd give my Firebolt for some peace and quiet."

"Harry, you're a really odd one, you know that?" Ron rolled his eyes, missing Harry's move, though he didn't miss much: Harry's move opened as many holes as it closed, and Ron inwardly gloated that the game was already in the bag. Harry didn't say anything in reply to Ron's comment, seeming to be preoccupied with something else entirely.

Finally, several seconds after Ron made his move he grunted, "It's your turn." Harry looked at the board, and as he contemplated his next move Ron asked, "Well, if not you, who would _you_ pick to be Hogwarts champion?"

Harry stopped, apparently suddenly interested by the question, "I... dunno. Don't really know much about the older people around here, other than your brothers and they're out, well, unless they can fool the impartial judge..." Harry suddenly developed a good thinking posture, obviously having come down to earth to think this one question through. "Let's see... who all's seventeen?"

"I don't know, but personally I'm glad Percy's already graduated. Imagine _him_ being Hogwarts champion!"

"Nah, I doubt he'd even enter." Ron snorted, amused, "No, it's gotta be somebody smart _and_ strong..." The chessboard was used to being stared at like that, but a few of the pieces closest to Harry were starting to fidget under the attention.

"What about Oliver Wood?"

Harry blinked as he registered the name. "That could work... but didn't he graduate?" Ron was about to protest, but suddenly stopped.

"Yeah, I think you're right."

"I dunno, but I don't think we should only think about Gryffindors, either."

"What, you're thinking a _Slytherin_ might get it?" Ron's face said that he didn't think this a very tasteful thought.

"No no. I mean, more like Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw."

"Oh please. Hufflepuff is full of fraidy-cats, and Ravenclaw's full of bookworms; most of them don't get out much."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, but having a head stuffed so full of knowledge might be useful for figuring out a way out of a tough spot. Imagine if one of the tests involved having a really obscure, hard to figure out solution? One that's really obvious if you've read about it, but would totally blow by you if you hadn't..." Suddenly Harry got the feeling he'd been staring at the board too long without ever even really seeing it, so he resolved to make his move before Ron got bored. He saw something he liked, "Sometimes it isn't about the greatest power, or the greatest boldness, but knowing when and how to use it, and having good reasons for doing so." His pawn moved forward as indicated, forcing Ron into a position where he had to respond to the threat before he could counter, else he'd lose either a rook or knight.

Ron gave an internal curse. If only Harry had been so focused from the beginning, they might have had an interesting game. There was no way for Harry to turn the game around now, but where had he been all this time? "So who?"

"Cedric Diggory." He nodded decisively, satisfied with his answer.

"Who?"

"Remember? We met him and his father at the World Cup over the summer. Mr. Diggory kept going on about how he was going to be an Auror the moment he stepped out of Hogwarts, so I bet he's qualified, and Cedric kept getting embarrassed, so he's humble, and he's from Hufflepuff, so he's loyal and will do his best for the school."

Ron looked at Harry oddly, "And he's the only one you can think of who's old enough."

"That too." Harry grinned, unabashed.

"Well, just don't let it get to you if you're wrong. I still say only a Gryffindor could really come out of it alive." He grinned, making his move, "Check."

Harry looked at the board. He then groaned. "It's already over, isn't it?" Ron gave him a smile and a nod. "I just can't win at this..." Ron merely kept up his grin as Harry gestured for one of his nervous pieces to make a last-ditch maneuver, taking out a knight mere moments before his King was captured.

Ron watched his pieces celebrate for a moment, then looked up, "'Nother go?"

Harry sighed sadly, watching the celebration, "No, I don't think so." Ron didn't seem too happy about that, but Harry tried not to notice, looking around to see if anyone was watching or listening in on them. Then, satisfied, he leaned forward a bit, "Hey Ron, I'm gonna explore the dungeons tonight."

"What?!" Ron realized that he'd spoken a little louder than he'd intended to, nervously looking around to see if anyone was suddenly paying them attention, which thankfully they weren't, before leaning forward himself, "But Harry, it's a maze down there!"

"Well that's why I want to explore it, y'know, get to know it better."

"No, Harry, I mean it's a _real_ maze! There's a whole labyrinth down there!"

Harry gave Ron an odd look, "You know this, but you didn't know about the Anti-Apparition wards?"

Ron floundered for a second, obviously at a loss for words before he came back, "Everybody knows about the Labyrinth! They've lost _professors_ down there, Harry!"

Harry only smiled happily, "Sounds like fun! Though, if it's really there, I might have to wait for the weekend before trying it, give myself plenty of time."

Ron stuttered for a while before seeming to give up, a series of lost and worried expressions going before his eyes, "You're serious."

"No I'm Harry."

Ron only stared for a moment at this, before finally giving up, "Just don't come crying to me if you get lost forever."

"If I'm lost forever, and I came crying to you, wouldn't you be lost forever too?"

"Huh?"

"Well if I'm lost, and I found _you_, then you'd have to be lost too. If I was able to find you, and _you_ weren't lost, then I wouldn't be lost anymore either, right?"

"... whatever you say, mate."

"Unless I was dead and a ghost, but then I guess I'd still have to be lost, so I guess that wouldn't really change anything, would it?"

Ron got up, cleaning up his Wizarding Chess set, "Harry, you're bonkers."

At this Harry rolled his eyes, "Well I _did_ get a good, hard knock to the noggin as a child..." He pantomimed a strike to his forehead, right where his scar was.

Ron shook his head, "And sometimes I wonder about that, too." He finished cleaning up and went off to put his things away, Harry following behind.

"And I still say Cedric Diggory is the best choice for Hogwarts Champion. That's who _I_ would pick!" The two of them hit the stairs and started up, Ron giving Harry an odd look.

"Yeah, you already said that."

"Oh, I know." He looked back, noticing Lavender Brown whispering into Parvati Patil's ear, the second girl quickly picking up on the first girl's grin, "Just getting the word out."

Nearly the entire school knew Harry's choice by the next day. The rest was, for some reason, convinced that he'd chosen Draco Malfoy instead.

Of course, rumors being rumors, it couldn't stop there: By the time Friday rolled around, rumors about Harry's choice for Hogwarts Champion had devolved into rumors about who he'd like to get 'in the sack' and speculation about his actual gender, which had started as a result of some of the 'He wants Draco Malfoy in the sack' rumors.

Really, one would think such children had nothing better to do than talk about one-another. It was just silly.

* * *

><p>"Harry, how can you just be standing there like that, aren't you cold?" Harry turned to look at Hermione at this.<p>

"No, not really."

"You're not pushing yourself again are you? You remember what happened last time!" Hermione actually stopped her shivering in order to give him a stern finger gesture, which only made Harry laugh nervously.

"I'm perfectly fine, I promise!" Harry didn't particularly feel like mentioning that he'd actually slept out in such cold recently.

"Oh lay off, 'mione, you charmed his robes this morning, remember?"

"Yes, but those charms wear off you know! Especially when it's really cold!"

Harry raised an eyebrow at this, grinning lightly as he looked the girl over, "So if you can, why didn't you cast it on yourself?"

Hermione was about to retort, but then stopped, mouth agape before she flushed, casting a quick warming charm over herself and then Ron, doing so over Harry, apparently just to be sure there was one there. She then made a few rounds for some of the others nearby, who all looked rather relieved.

The afternoon of Friday, October Thirtieth came and the entire student body had been ushered out onto the grounds outside the school, apparently awaiting the arrival of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations, who were set to arrive any moment now. It hadn't started out seeming all that cold, but after standing around for so long, in air that was only getting colder with the falling sun, many students were either shivering or pulling out the warming charms. Even Professor Flitwick had decided to start casting the charm himself after noticing several first years huddling together, breaking the lines they been put into.

Harry, ears sharper than he could ever have imagined they could be as a human, picked up Flitwick whispering to Dumbledore, "Headmaster, if they don't arrive soon it will be dark..."

"Don't worry Filius, I'm sure it won't take much longer. It was agreed, after all."

"Yes, well, I'm going to see if anyone else needs a good warming charm."

As time stretched on discontent started to spread a bit further, "D'you suppose they forgot?"

"Oh please, Ron, it's barely six o'clock yet! Give them a little time!"

"Ah! Unless I'm mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons is just arriving!" Dumbledore swished elegantly forward, twinkle in his eye as he looked toward the horizon.

"What? Where?"

"There! Over the forest!"

"What? What is it?"

"It's a broomstick!"

"No, it's too large-"

"It's a flying house!"

"Oh don't be silly, Ron! It's not a _house_! It's... what _is_ it?"

Harry watched as the carriage approached, "It's a gigantic carriage... with gigantic horses." This statement made the rounds among the students and soon, as the aforementioned carriage approached, Harry was proven right.

"Blimey! They're huge!"

Harry grinned, "As big as Aragog?" Ron flushed.

"No, but sure close." Hermione rolled her eyes in response to this, still not believing that particular story.

When the Beauxbatons delegation finally landed Hogwarts was treated to the sight of the largest woman that any of its students had ever seen, standing just as tall as Hagrid and looking to be able to easily mount the gargantuan flying horses that had pulled the carriage all the way from France.

Dumbledore started to clap, and in response the student body followed him; the woman, who had previously held a pensive expression, smiled graciously as she moved across the lawn toward Dumbledore.

"My Dear Madame Maxime, Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr, I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you."

She nodded, then swept a gigantic hand behind her, "My pupils."

Harry noticed the line of boys and girls behind her, many of whom were shivering and looking up at the Hogwarts castle with trepidation, as though slightly intimidated by its old and domineering stature. Harry couldn't blame them, he'd thought Hogwarts rather overwhelming-looking the first time he'd looked upon it, as well.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?"

"He should be here any moment," Dumbledore smiled, giving a small look toward the children before focusing again on Madame Maxime, "Would you like to wait here and greet him, or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think, but ze 'orses-"

Harry's attention was then drawn to the horses who, much like Hippogriffs, were gazing over the faces of the humans with rather superior looks in their eyes.

"I assure you, Hagrid is well up to the job."

"Very well," Madame Maxime acquiesced, bowing slightly, "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," Dumbledore bowed in response.

"Come." Madame Maxime gestured to her students, who responded immediately, though the gaze of the woman herself was suddenly drawn elsewhere. "Impressive flower, Dumbly-dorr..."

"I thank you, Madame, Professor Sprout has been working very hard on it for quite some time." Maxime took this in, but said nothing as she nodded and then turned to tend to her students, who were making their way up to the stone steps of the castle.

"I wonder how big the Durmstrang horses will be," Seamus Finnigan gave the Beauxbatons horses a nervous look, "Because if they're any bigger than _those_, I'm not sure even Hagrid could handle them..."

"Maybe." Harry gazed across at the horses, listening as they complained about 'the smell' and acted generally impatient.

One of them had only just noticed him staring and started giving him a stink-eye when someone shouted about something at the Lake, "Look! The Lake!"

Attention broken from the giant horses, Harry looked around at the lake, which was quickly bubbling and churning as though being boiled and stirred at the same time. It then started to spin, a great whirlpool opening up in its very middle, widening ever greater until a great black pole, then mast, then ship erupted from beneath the water, shedding the lake's engorged innards as it finally came to rest atop suddenly calm, black waters.

It looked to be much what Harry would have imagined a Ghost Ship to look like: Skeletal, as though anything not necessary to float had been stripped of it or rotted away, with eerie lights coming from its many port-holes looking like the haunting eyes of many ghosts. Then, once it had come to a satisfactory rest on the surface, it began to move, noiselessly and quite on its own, toward shore in the direction of the gathered assemblage.

Finally it stopped, the sound of an anchor being dropped into the water preceded the drawing of a plank for the new arrivals to disembark.

The stream of students that came from inside the ark were all hardly worth noticing; they wore extremely thick fur robes, but other than that seemed little interesting. Then a tall man in sleek silver-furred robes came out, and Harry's mind instantly locked onto him as... something to watch.

"Dumbledore!" The man's thin mouth opened gaily, wonderful pleasantries streaming forth from beneath his thin white mustache, "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff." Dumbledore's eyes shined slightly as he said this, a smile on his face.

A first year sneezed, drawing Harry's attention away from the conversation; his eyes were then drawn further into the forest, where he saw a teenage-looking centaur watching the goings-on; as he watched the male centaur, it apparently noticed him, though it reacted in a rather odd manner for the reclusive creatures, giving him a happy wave before pointing back toward where the meeting was taking place.

Ron, meanwhile, was going mad: "Krum, Harry! It's Viktor Krum!"

Harry just managed to get his eyes back on things in time to see the spindly Karkaroff carting away a slightly duck-footed boy. He didn't say anything, though he got the feeling that the next several months were going to be rather interesting.

* * *

><p>Harry walked down one of the school's halls toward Gryffindor Tower, both hands behind his head as he watched the ceiling move past, "Goblet of Fire, eh?"<p>

"Yeah," Ron was grinning as he walked with Harry, "And I'll bet Fred and George really _could_ get past the Age Line. Like they said, an Aging Potion should do it, right?"

Hermione huffed from slightly behind, "Oh please, Ron. Do you really think Dumbledore wouldn't think of something as simple as _that_?"

"Well, maybe it's a test of cleverness? Right, Harry?"

"Mmm."

"Well, Harry? Changed your mind about entering?"

"Nah," Harry shook his head, thinking in his mind about how the added attention would just make exploring all the more dangerous, "I'd rather everybody watch somebody else for a change."

"Well that's very mature of you, Harry."

Harry snorted, "Hardly. I just want more time to sneak off, y'know?" He grinned happily as he said this. It was the truth, after all. The noise that came from behind probably meant that Hermione didn't particularly approve.

"Well... Harry... What if you, I dunno, somehow magically _could_ enter?" Harry was about to respond that he still wouldn't, but Ron beat him to the punch, "Or if someone entered _for_ you?"

Harry blinked, his protest dying on his tongue as he actually had to close his mouth. He stopped, 'If someone... so if I was suddenly entered, whether I actually did it or not...' Suddenly he was irritated, "I can see somebody doing that. Blast, there goes my good mood."

Ron, who already thought Harry was rather mad for wanting to avoid the Tournament in the first place, actually frowned at this comment, "Harry, you're loony, you know that?" Harry stuck out his tongue, "Anyway, answer the question."

Harry shrugged, "Well, if I'm in I'm in, right? Dumbledore said it was a magical contract, and you can't break those. So of course I'd win it." He nodded decisively.

And Ron blinked obtusely. "You'd... win it? What, just like that?"

"That's awfully confident of you, Harry. Don't you remember how I said people have _died_?" Hermione actually sounded a bit worried. Likely because she'd read the writing on the wall, and come to the same conclusion Harry had: It would inconvenience, even endanger Harry, so it was likely, no, _certain_ to happen.

"Yeah. I wouldn't."

Even Ron was a bit put off by this sudden confidence, "Oh come on, Harry. I mean, you could be going against someone like _Krum!_" He halted, seeing his words having no effect on Harry, "And besides, who says you'd even _be_ Hogwarts' champion?"

Harry snorted derisively, "Please. If that cup knows anything about whoever puts their name in, it would _have_ to choose me."

"Oh _really_?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, "And what about Cedric Diggory? Didn't you pick him just a few days ago?"

"Well, yeah," Harry nodded, then grinned, "But after all, Professor Dumbledore _did_ make me promise not to break the school..."

"Wha?"

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get ready for the weekend!" Harry's eyes lit up and he suddenly hurried down the hallway, as though the previous conversation had been a mere distraction.

"What? Weekend? What's happening this weekend?" Hermione gave a confused look to Ron's face and Harry's retreating back. Ron seemed rather chagrined, and that only made Hermione more confused, being held back from going after the boy by Ron's hand.

"Don't tell anyone but... he says he's going into the Labyrinth over the weekend..."

Hermione's eyes widened, "The one in the _Dungeons_!?" At Ron's affirmative nod she gave the now empty hallway a frightened look, then seemed to space out before wilting. "There's no chance we'd be able to talk him out of it, is there?" Ron shook his head, his own frustration showing through. "Well, I suppose we should at least make sure he brings a map." She suddenly moved off, intent on finding Harry before he was beyond their reach.

"Wait, there's a _map_?"

"Well, it's not a very good one, but it's better than nothing, right?" Ron spluttered before simply keeping pace with the girl, shoulders slumped as though he'd finally just given up.

Suddenly, for some reason, he felt the urge to do some fire-breathing exercises. Blasted Divination classes anyways.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 13<p>

* * *

><p>Well this one took about a bit longer to write than I was really comfortable with, but I finally got it done. Yay me!<p>

I really am sorry for how long it took to get this out; it was actually finished and on my Hard Drive for quite some time, I've just had other things on my mind. I changed jobs (which really messed up my schedule), emptied my bank account in getting a new car, did so again in getting a PlayStation Three (which is its own distraction, of course; Bioshock is effing incredible, I tell you), and my room is currently gutted and being put back together as I write this from the living room. I also did not catch the Swine Flu, but got a bad cold just the same, from which I've only just recovered. I also had a Dementor over my shoulder for a while there, and had about ten dozen other story ideas crowding my head. In all, I just sort of decided it was time I updated this. The next chapter shouldn't take nearly so long, but I tend to go by the seat of my pants most of the time, so plans don't really work that well for me.

Hmm, that idea I had at the end of book 3 seems to have fallen out. Too bad.

I've been asked for it several times already, and now I've finally decided: From now on I'll be listing each Pokemon that shows up in the story, for whatever reason; these listings and explanations will show up after the end of the chapter in which they appear, starting _after_ today, since I don't want to go back and replace every affected chapter with a version showing the explanations, I'll simply profile each appearance here and now. Before I start I'd like to explain, again, the limits on Harry's transformation ability. Harry, as a Mew, has DNA for nearly every Pokemon (short of the ones I've already excluded, such as Arceus and the Lake Trio), and thus is able to become those Pokemon when the need/want arises. He is not, however, able to become something OTHER than a Pokemon unless he has had direct contact with it at some point, and/or transformed into it in its presence, and then only to a nearly exact replica, right down to gender. What this means is that he can become any Pokemon at any time short of the banned ones, and can pick the gender in those cases (meaning he'd usually be male unless otherwise stated), but when he transforms into, for example Crookshanks or Hedwig, he uses DNA that he picked up from personal (visual is fine) contact with them in order to do it out of their presence, had to do it for the first time when in their presence, and copies everything about them, including gender, while transformed into those individuals. This stands if he were to transform into another Human (though I don't see him doing so any time soon), or any other creature. Also when he transforms into an individual, he copies that individual's strengths and abilities up to and including the limits of his own natural power, but not above that; so if he came across a dragon more powerful than he is, he couldn't transform into it and expect to be just as powerful.

Now, for the list of Pokemon that have already appeared. If this list is incomplete I apologize, and invite a sharp-eyed reader to point out the chapter and situation that I missed one. I'll try to be thorough, but this project has been going on long enough that I'm likely to forget at least one thing.

Pokemon Name: Rattata. Type: Normal. Stage: Basic. Appearance: When Harry was first trying out his transformative abilities, he had transformed into a Rattata and was then accosted by an intimidating-looking cat, which he then lured off to step onto a mouse trap. Though not specifically described in-story, this encounter is part of the reason for Harry mentioning a possible fear of mousetraps to Professor Lupin when discussing learning the Patronus Charm.

Pokemon Name: Eevee. Type: Normal. Stage: Basic. Appearance: When Harry was first showing off to Ron and Hermione, Harry transformed into Hermione in her Eevee form. Because, in this instance, he had transformed into a specific individual, gender was included, thus this Pokemon was female. This individual is also a good note bushier than a normal Eevee, which is already known for the thick ruff around its neck and thick, fluffy tail. It's also known for being playful and good-natured, as well as loyal. Harry and Hermione 'played' for a few moments before Ron stopped them, picking up Hermione and telling her to stop picking on herself.

Pokemon Name: Haunter. Type: Ghost/Poison. Stage: First (evolved once). Appearance: When Harry was finally convinced to go to Hogsmeade he took the route that brought him to the Shrieking Shack. When he was about to actually enter it, he decided to try becoming a ghost, so as to 'fit in'; however, since he wasn't in either contact nor the presence of a ghost when he tried it, he became a Ghost-type Pokemon instead. While in this form he took to the species' natural mischievousness and proceeded to Scare Ron, Lick(attack) Malfoy, and, though not talked about much, switch the minds of Crabbe and Goyle. Though alluded to, this last part wasn't specifically talked about much because, apparently, switching one skull full of rocks for another doesn't seem to amount to much. All that was mentioned was the phrase "Heart Swap", which Ron figured he didn't care enough to ask what that meant, so long as it would annoy Malfoy or his bodyguards.

Pokemon Name: Pidgey/Spearow. Type: Normal/Flying. Stage: Basic. Appearance: Many times. When Harry was finally convinced to go to Hogsmeade he spent part of his time there transformed into a 'little bird'. The same little bird later staked out the Third year Gryffindor Boy's dorm, transformed to keep out of sight, since at the time both Harry and Hermione were technically in their own past and needed to keep everyone oblivious to their presence; it only lasted long enough for Hermione to open the window and let him in, at which point he became human. It was never actually defined or described exactly what species the 'little bird' was, so the case can be made for either one, but since there were no individual birds around for Harry to transform into, it was definitely either a Pidgey or Spearow. I usually picture a Pidgey.

Pokemon Name: Umbreon. Type: Dark. Stage: First. Appearance: When Harry noticed a wave of Dementors coming his way, heading toward Sirius and 'Past Harry', he transformed into something he figured the Dementors would ignore. He ended up four-legged, before transforming back to human to cast the Patronus. It was a very small mentioning, but being of the Dark type, Umbreon is unaffected by a Dementor's cold, so this may pop up again at some point.

Pokemon Name: Celebi. Type: Grass/Psychic. Stage: Basic. Appearance: When Harry cast his Patronus after traveling to the past, he transformed himself into what he remembered seeing just as he was being rescued from a pack of Dementors; described as a sort of green little alien with fairy wings, Celebi was the result. He's used it many times since, and doing so gives him the ability to be connected to the Time Stream, though 'Connected To' and 'In Control Of' are very different things. Harry acts, and thinks of himself as more of a 'Tool of Time' than an actual 'Master of Time', partially related to the fact that Celebi merely Travels time, while another, more Powerful Pokemon, which is unavailable to Harry as a transformation, actually Controls it.

Pokemon Name: Voltorb. Type: Electric. Stage: Basic. Appearance: When Harry was inspecting the Skrewts he became distracted and laid his tail on the bottom of a box full of them; when one of them exploded on his tail he was shocked, surprised, and angry enough that he shouted untranslated Mew-ing (which translated to "You like to explode!? Well I can do that too!"), followed by him seeking his instincts for some way of exploding. Voltorb was the result, and he then exploded in Hagrid's hands, knocking the giant on his bum and giving him burns and bruises all along his arms and trunk.

Individuals: Harry has transformed into, and assimilated the forms of Crookshanks, Eevee-Hermione, Hedwig, at least one stray cat from Surrey, and a Skrewt.

Patronus: Harry's Patronus has the potential to come out as many things, and will come out as many things in the future. So far, however, only one has been described: "it was nearly as tall as Hagrid, but unlike the man there was no hair on it, instead it looked like some kind of silver body-builder, complete with a championship belt around its waist. Its head was inhuman, but that and its toes were the only real clues that it really wasn't Human." This was Machoke, which normally is only about five feet tall, though in this case the amount of magic put into the spell made it a bit larger; it's head looks a bit squashed (in my opinion) with a wide mouth, and its toes look like they're held in socks. Other than that, it looks like a heavily over-muscled human.

That should be it for now. If anyone spots anything else, feel free to point it out and I'll be sure to post it.

Someone pointed out a mis-placed word in a part of my rant about Arithmancy. I fixed it. And someone brought up the amount of time I took in describing Harry's first Arithmancy lesson. I thought it fairly appropriate, though, considering it was a class that wasn't even touched upon in the book, and thus was a complete void as far as description. Other than being a part of the background noise of Harry's term, it isn't likely to get much more mention than that, though; it will simply become another pleasant class, like Charms already seems to be.

Alex Ultra: From Normal To Nottingham

LATER


	15. What A Name

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

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><p>Chapter 14: What A Name<p>

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><p>As it turned out, Harry's trip to the Labyrinth beneath the school had to be put off for a day or two, as he honestly felt as though he ought to be present to see the choosing of the champions that Saturday.<p>

So, he stuck around. He explored the dungeons, of course, but steered clear of the Labyrinth, the location of which Hermione had shown him with what appeared to be a very roughly drawn, and even more horribly incomplete map of the maze found deep in _Hogwarts, A History_.

Of course she quickly complained about the book making no mention of House Elves, but that was honestly to be expected by that point: It seemed to be on her thoughts at nearly all times of the day.

He found several interesting rooms, a few interesting hallways, and one apparently disused study that had a strong smell of moldy decay, which just so happened to have been coming off of the moldy corpse in the chair at a desk in the back. Apparently, someone had died and no-one had bothered to clean up the body. Or, more likely, the House Elves weren't allowed in this particular room, and no one else was _used_ to picking things up.

Put off by the smell, Harry quickly closed the door and walked away with a gag.

Fortunately, he spotted no one in his time in the Dungeons, and no one spotted him in turn, which was just fine by him. The less he had to see of Malfoy, the better, really.

The day that the Goblet had been revealed was Friday, and the choosing of the champions was set to take place after the Halloween feast the very next day, so he didn't have much time to do his exploring; he got as much out of it as he could, though, spending the whole night and day on it, figuring he could get something of a cat-nap in during the actual choosing.

Pun intended, of course.

So by the time he made it to the Gryffindor table that evening he had a tired, beat-down, but pleased look in his eye as he hunched over and started snoring lightly, completely ignoring his food.

Noticing Harry's state, Ron poked him lightly in the side, but only rolled his eyes at the pseudo-boy's ensuing snore.

"Oh honestly," whispered Hermione, "Didn't he sleep at _all_?"

"'Least he's here. What if he'd gotten lost?"

"He shouldn't have been wandering about anyway."

"Well what's he gonna do, sit up in bed all night? Read another _book_?"

It was fortunate, perhaps, that Ron and Hermione were nowhere near being the only people in the Great Hall whispering to one-another, as no one noticed their heated conversation; a few people looked at Harry curiously, a few eyes even suspiciously, but for the most part they were all being ignored.

The food for the feast, which was picked at with nowhere near the enthusiasm that it normally was, came and went; there was all sorts that would appear on the plates and in golden goblets, only to either be consumed slowly or simply vanish. And when the plates were finally left empty, in pristine condition, all talk across the Great Hall ceased as Headmaster Dumbledore stood up with a flourish. The other professors, foreign Headmasters and Mr. Bagman all looked quite excited, where Mr. Crouch merely looked bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber-" he indicated the door behind the staff table, "-where they will be receiving their first instructions." A low murmur of assent went through the room and, almost as if to silence everyone, Dumbledore waved his wand in a low, slow arc across the room, causing all the candles, except the ones in the floating Jack 'o Lanterns to extinguish, plunging the room into a stifling near-darkness that really only seemed to make Harry more comfortable in his sleep.

The Goblet of Fire remained burning for several minutes, its blue-white flames easily the brightest thing in the room, mesmerizing as students from three separate schools held their gazes locked onto it, as though transfixed; so transfixed, in fact, that Ron failed to care that Harry was missing it by sleeping through it all.

Ron gulped; not because he had somehow gotten his name in there, but rather because of a simple sense of anticipation that he was sharing with most of the rest of the room. Harry was, of course, immune to this sense, this agony, as he was asleep, but Hermione finally got mind to try to rouse him from this state; her efforts were in vain, but she at least tried.

Finally the goblet's flames turned bright red and burst into the air, leaving behind a lick of flame that quickly resolved into a charred piece of parchment, which Dumbledore deftly snatched from the air, reading it with great ease against the blue-white light of the Goblet of Fire, "The champion for Durmstrang, will be Viktor Krum!" Several excited shouts, including one from Ron, came up from the crowd at this as Viktor himself, sour-faced fellow he was, slowly grunted his way past the staff table, going into the room that, if Headmaster Karkaroff was to be believed, he'd been expecting to go into from the start; the other Durmstrang students didn't seem too disappointed, having apparently been expecting the outcome as much as their Headmaster. Likely, they had more come for the spectacle than the chance to participate.

Finally, as the excitement from the first announcement died down, the Goblet again flared red, producing a small red flame that lasted slightly longer before Dumbledore snatched it from the air, "The champion from Beauxbatons will be, Fleur Delacour." The announcement was met with all the sorts of noises one would expect, right down to several girls from the same school breaking into tears at their disappointment; one could hardly blame them, of course, this likely being their only major chance to finally outshine the girl that got nearly every last lick of male attention for miles without even wanting it.

As Fleur made her way out of the room everyone's attention was again drawn to the Goblet, which flared red again, seeming to take longer to calm down with each calling; it spat out a fluffy ball of red flame, which quickly brightened in mid-air as though signifying its importance as Dumbledore reached out for it, catching it between his fingers.

"The champion for Hogwarts..." his eyes widened imperceptibly, "Will be... Harry Potter."

A great set of shouts rose up from all quarters of the room at this: Several felt vindicated, having sensed that Harry really would be the best for the job, while others felt somehow lessened, to be reduced to a level below _him_; more, however, felt cheated, sure somehow that Dumbledore had pulled his strings to get Harry into the tournament, ignoring the way the stoic old man's face was growing whiter with ever moment.

Harry was oblivious to this, of course, as he was still asleep. And if one had ever before tried to get a cat to do something it didn't want to do, that person would know the level of difficulty that Ron was having at getting Harry to wake up; Harry, despite the noise, made no indication that he was ready to rejoin the world of the living, instead remaining steadfastly asleep as Ron shook him rather violently.

Ron, however, was not to be denied, and ignoring Harry's sleepy grumblings, he got behind the boy and started to pull, intending to pull him off the bench; this, unfortunately, merely made Harry latch onto the table, complaining wordlessly as the spectacle began to be amusing enough to douse some of the flames of anger that had been started in several peoples' hearts.

Finally Hermione had had enough, "Oh for Merlin's sake! _Rennervate!_" She poked her wand almost directly against Harry's side, and suddenly the boy gave a start, nearly dislodging Ron, who stopped his frantic tugging long enough to see Harry blink owlishly at the room.

"What? We're done already? Can I go to bed now?"

"No, Harry, your-"

Ron tugged on the back of Harry's robe again, "_Your_ name came out of the Goblet of Fire, _you're_ Hogwarts' champion!"

Harry turned to blink stupidly at the boy, then look at the aforementioned cup with a disbelieving look, then back at Ron, "Are you sure?"

"_Yes!_"

Dumbledore's kindly voice carried over the room, "Harry, if you could come up here, please?"

"Do I _have_ to?" Harry barely cared that he was whining; couldn't they at least give him two hours' sleep? It wasn't much!

"Yes, Harry, the magic of the Goblet is a binding magical contract-"

"But I didn't _bind_ my magic to anything! I never even went _near_ that silly cup!"

Ron growled, "Just _GO_!" He started pulling again, and Harry again dug in his claws.

"No! I don't want to! Can't it wait for morning!?"

"Harry, you're making a scene!" Hermione tittered slightly as she noticed the attention being leveled on her friend.

"So? I don't want to go! I'm not a circus animal! I don't want to be balancing on big beach-balls or juggling tricycles, honking horns so people can point and clap!"

"Harry you're still dreaming, wake _up_!" Hermione, frustrated, had a sudden compulsion to ram her head into Harry's side, but gave that thought no mental time beyond what took to initially form it.

"No!"

Dumbledore felt that that was just about enough, extending his wand at the boy and levitating him upward; the boy's body began to rise, but he was still holding fast to the table, so Dumbledore added a bit more pressure to the spell, though it didn't immediately seem to work... until the Headmaster noticed, to his astonishment, that the solid stone table the boy was holding on to had started to shift slightly; working quickly he twisted on the spell, finally dislodging the surprisingly strong boy from the table and slowly floating him, belly down, toward the staff table, where he came to his feet just before being set gently down. "Are you ready now, Harry?"

Harry grumbled, standing there, "Fine."

"Now move along, we'll see you and the other champions in a moment." Dumbledore was about to start his next announcement when he noticed that Harry was still standing in place, giving him a confused look, "What is it?"

"Where?"

"'Where' what?"

"Where do I go?" Dumbledore pointed, blankly, at the door he had already pointed out a few minutes ago, noting with satisfaction that Harry had started toward it.

Finally he turned to make his final announcements when the Goblet, again, flared up, spitting out yet-another name, which Dumbledore caught, silently. He read the name, "Harry Potter."

Harry snorted grumpily, "I think your cup is broken." He then walked silently away.

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><p>The room that had been set aside for the champions was fairly small, but comfortable; it held a handsome fire, several paintings on the walls, and a number of comfortable chairs, one of which Harry had immediately curled into and fallen fast asleep, completely ignoring the other champions.<p>

Therefore he was largely oblivious to all the people who were having heated discussions over him, _about_ him, while not including him; he was already used to ignoring that stuff while conscious, why would it be any different while he was asleep? So what if Fleur was calling him a little boy? So what if Karkaroff was threatening to storm out and take Krum with him, or to simply cut off ties with Hogwarts post-tournament? (Karkaroff hadn't immediately remembered the binding contract part of things, but recovered nicely.)

So what if Dumbledore was almost entirely bereft of explanations? So what if Snape was standing there, demanding an explanation from Harry himself?

Actually, that last one was a bit more vexing a problem to ignore, since Snape had apparently taken a book from Hermione's library and cast an angry _'Rennervate'_ on him, "Explain yourself, Potter! How did you get your name into that Goblet? How did you pass the Age Line!"

Harry blinked owlishly at the professor; subliminally he had long-ago decided not to even try to answer the questions, knowing even deep down that anything he said in an attempt to deny that he'd done something that he honestly didn't remember doing would be ignored, and that his denials would simply be the denials of a young boy trying to keep out of trouble. "Did you know there's a dead guy in an office not far from yours?" So instead he said the first thing that came to mind upon seeing Snape's face.

Snape did not pale, but the anger did drain from his face rather quickly, "What?"

Harry nodded, "Sitting at a desk and everything, even still has a quill in his hand; figure he must have been there for a while, though, since he smelled something awful; bet I've even got the smell on me, I'm really going to need a bath. I was going to ask where Professor Binns' office was, since I thought it might've been him down there."

Snape growled, "Don't avoid the question, Potter."

Harry ignored him, inwardly wondering how Snape liked it, "I wonder, do the House Elves normally avoid a room like that? It's the only way I can understand an occupied room having a dead body in it for so long."

Dumbledore hummed, "Only if they'd been ordered to, I believe."

"Don't ignore me!"

"Might Professor Binns have done so?"

"Yes, I can see him doing so. I'll have to ask him about that."

Finally Snape snapped, "One hundred points from Gryffindor! And you _will_ answer me, Potter!"

Instantly Harry snapped his eyes on the aggravating teacher, one hand gripping, perhaps a little too hard on the chair as he fought back an annoyed growl, "In case you weren't listening, _Professor_ I was telling you _exactly_ where I was last night; from the moment that stupid cup came out until the beginning of the feast I was down in the dungeons, alone, missing breakfast, lunch, and the full night of sleep; I'm tired, hungry, and grumpy." Snape opened his mouth but Harry interrupted him, eyes gleaming bright pink, "So to _ANSWER_ your _QUESTION_ Professor Snape, I never went near that stupid cup, not even within twenty feet of it! Never looked at it funny, and most _certainly_ didn't put my name in it! I didn't, and still _DON'T_ want _anything _to do with this _whole ruddy tournament!_ I just want to go to bed!"

To put it bluntly, Snape was already whipping out his wand, thinking up the most vile, horrible hex he could think of that wouldn't somehow land him in Azkaban when Professor Dumbledore's hand landed on his shoulder, "Severus." For a moment his anger continued to try to make his arm perform the motions for a spell that would tear Harry's skin off in flakes until either he ran out of skin, the spell ran out of magic, or the counter-curse was applied. Finally, he lowered his wand.

"Detention, Potter. A month's worth, with Mister Filch."

Harry snorted, "Filch is easier to get along with, anyway; he sends little girls away crying, but is still easier to get along with."

Only Professor Dumbledore interjecting himself between the two ceased a continued squabble, "That will be enough." He punctuated his statement with an application of his power, revealing for just a moment a large portion of his magical core, making Snape snap back, though Harry hardly flinched from his glare. Seeing this, he decided to focus on the boy, "I think Snape's named punishments will be enough to cover your jaunt into the Dungeons at night. I would also like for you to spend a week with myself to discuss proper respect for your Professors."

Harry growled slightly at that, but sat down, still giving Snape an intense glare that the man somehow associated with an angry predator.

That resolved, Dumbledore turned to Snape, "I trust that will be all, Severus?" Severus backed down, apparently mollified not only by Dumbledore backing him up, but expressing his own outrage at the boy's obvious, blatant disrespect. The symbolism of Harry Potter's greatest backer suddenly wheeling on him was not lost on the other Headmasters, either.

Finally, it was Moody, walking up with the repeated clunking sound of his fake leg punctuating every other step, who salvaged the situation, "It would take some mighty powerful magic, I think..."

Dumbledore was intrigued, "To what?"

Moody grunted, his magical eye focusing on Dumbledore, "The Goblet spit out a fourth name; yes it spit out the boy's name twice, but it was only supposed to give three, one for each school. It would take a mighty bit of magic to cunfund it into thinking there should be four schools..."

Snape sneered, "And _what_, exactly, are you trying to say?"

Moody's magical eye turned to glare invisibly through the back of his head at Snape, "I'm _saying_, boy, that somebody with some pretty powerful magic behind them, no less, has it out for young Harry, here." There was a moment of silence, during which Dumbledore's face seemed to change into an expression that Moody seemed to recognize, "Ah, I see _you_, at least, understand, don't you? Wouldn't even need to worry about the Age Line, eh? Just waltz up and drop in a name, 'Harry Potter, Hogwarts'; then he's almost sure to be killed if he's picked, eh?" He turned his normal eye on Karkaroff for just a moment, a glare coming from both eyes for just that moment before he turned his real eye back on Harry, the magical one moving to some other, seemingly random place, "But they didn't leave it to chance that the cup might not pick him; it would take a pretty powerful Cunfundus Charm to make it think there should be a fourth school, not so easy, with Harry as its only applicant..."

Ludo Bagman suddenly laughed, nervously, "Really, someone trying to kill him? Moody, old man... what a thing to say!"

Harry's eyes drifted closed of their own accord, and he stopped paying attention until somebody, probably Dumbledore, _Rennervate_'d him again, to listen to a bunch of gibberish about the first task; apparently it tested daring, so they weren't going to say anything about it except the date it was to be held. Which Harry complained about being something that really _could_ have waited for morning.

They then all went their separate ways, Dumbledore telling Harry to see him first thing in the morning and not to leave his dorm until then.

Harry then went straight to bed and slept for four hours, twice his normal amount; it was nice.

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><p>The next day Harry had to spend several hours in bed, in his dorm as Dumbledore had ordered. It wasn't that he couldn't do it, he really could have done it without too much problem, it was simply that he'd been <em>told<em> to do it that made it hard. It wasn't as though he was being rebellious or anything, it was simply that not all of that negative feeling had been slept out of him, and being confined to his room meant he had no way of releasing it.

If he'd been allowed, he could probably have put a dent in the spider population around the school.

He was unusually silent that morning as he paced back and forth through his room, trying to calm his nerves; now that he was no longer tired he was able to recognize just how... _confrontational_ he'd been with Snape the night before. But he also simply couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for it. Certainly, if he hadn't been tired, hungry, annoyed, and angry over being forced into something he didn't want any part of, he might not have been quite so snippy with Snape... but truly, if anyone in the _whole_ of the _entirety_ of the entire _Universe_ deserved it, Snape was that someone.

Just thinking about it brought back the feelings. Honestly, who did Snape think he was? It's alright for Harry to be treated that way, but not him? Simply because he's a teacher, and thus 'in power'? Was it really so horrible to be treated the way you treat everyone around you?

Unfortunately, by the time Harry assumed Dumbledore must have woken back up, Harry had nearly driven himself back into a frenzy; he tried to calm himself down, but the fact that a pair of younger Hufflepuffs gave him a wide berth, ogling him with wide eyes, suggested he might not have been totally successful in that effort.

He finally made it to that stupid gargoyle that marked the entrance to the Headmaster's office. He didn't feel like trying to guess that day's password, so instead he sighed in frustration as he crossed his arms, walking a few feet away, still staring at the odd-seeming barrier.

He sighed again, somehow draining himself of some of his anger as he did so. He sighed again, and with his anger almost completely gone he felt incredibly drained, as though he were a balloon that had been overinflated and then emptied; he felt weaker as he went up to the gargoyle and looked it, tiredly, in the eye, "Look, just... I'm here, okay?"

The gargoyle refused to move, so Harry sighed loudly and sat, cross-legged against the wall nearby, simply waiting. Left to his own devices, he still couldn't help but to think about the injustices he was forced to deal with, especially related to Snape... but short of no longer having to deal with Snape, or the two of them coming to some sort of agreement, he didn't see a peaceful resolution.

Odd, where had that companionship from the year previous gone?

This was the question that Harry found himself pondering as he waited for the Gargoyle to suddenly move on its own, which some time later it finally did. "Harry, come in." Harry got off the floor, dusting off his bum, and climbed the staircase, following the Headmaster.

Inside of his office, Dumbledore instructed Harry to sit in a chair, which he did, not paying too much attention to the outside world.

"Now then," Dumbledore sat behind his desk, hands clasped before him, "I believe you know why we're here."

Harry merely said, "Snape."

"_Professor_ Snape."

Harry shook his head, but said nothing.

Dumbledore, however, picked up on it, and decided not to let it go, "Harry, as a Professor, Professor Snape is due a certain level of respect, which you most certainly were not showing last night. Granted, the presence of several very important figures makes this particular outburst perhaps a bit more important, but that is merely a point of severity; you stepped far outside your bounds."

Harry quietly watched the floor, eyes low, "Is that all? It's all about 'my bounds'?"

"Harry-"

"Am I not allowed any respect?" To this Dumbledore had no answer. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, looking sadly at the floor.

"Harry... I'm sorry, but you will have to be punished. Such behavior cannot be allowed."

Harry was silent for a little while longer, then asked, "Will Snape be punished?"

Dumbledore frowned, "Harry, as a Professor-"

"He's exempt from common decency." Harry nodded, "I understand."

Dumbledore's frown deepened, "No, Harry, I don't think you _do_ understand. Being a Professor is very taxing work-"

"It also requires long hours of contact with children, with which he is incapable of having even so much as a decent conversation. He does not teach, does not profess _anything_ other than the waves of hatred that roll off of him like a dense, horrible, purple fog." Each word was slightly sharper than the one before.

"Surely, Harry, 'Hatred' is a rather strong word..."

Harry shook his head, "I... he hates me. I'd have to be dense not to see it. I tried. I was nice to him, I..."

"I still don't think he 'hates' you, Harry..."

"I... liked him... for a while."

Dumbledore blinked... big. "Liked... him?"

"He... treated me differently, from everybody else."

"Harry-"

"I wasn't 'The Boy Who Lived' to him, I was Harry Potter..." This conversation had been almost completely out of Dumbledore's hands from word one, but its current direction was so very unexpected that the aged man was left speechless, "But now I can't stand him, and even though I have every reason in the world... why?" Harry looked up at Dumbledore, pain and confusion in his eyes, "Why?"

"Harry... I don't think he was meant to... return your 'feelings'..."

Harry frowned, "I don't care if he likes me or not. I just wish he'd stop treating me like... like a monster or something. It's honestly like he thinks I'm a werewolf, except he treated Professor Lupin better than he ever treated me."

"Well, Harry, sometimes people can... misunderstand." Harry shrugged, "Don't think too harshly of him, Harry..."

Harry laughed bitterly, "I didn't used to; he was someone I didn't have to be famous for, someone who didn't stare at my scar, or want to see my Firebolt, or just shake my hand... everybody else points..." He frowned as a look of dawning came across Dumbledore's face, "But he didn't."

"I see. So you felt... closer to him?"

"Not really." This confused the old man, "Just thought maybe he was a little more objective." He sighed, "But he isn't, is he? When he looks at me, he just starts... hating me. ... Potter." Harry's eyes snapped into focus as Dumbledore's started going a little swirly, "That's it, isn't it!? I'm not The Boy Who Lived, but I _am_ Mister Potter. It's not the same one, but it's still the same thing, isn't it? He's still seeing somebody he knew before we ever met." He gulped as he stood, hardly seeing Dumbledore, his office, or anything around him, standing as though he'd just discovered something of grave importance... then he fell back in his seat, "Great. Just great. So Snape wasn't so great, now it's just the Dursleys, isn't it?"

"Harry..." Dumbledore wanted to reach out to the boy, could even almost feel the moving eyes of the paintings around him... but held his tongue.

"So what's my punishment?"

Dumbledore stopped again, still not entirely sure how he lost control of things so easily, but he quickly recovered, "No going into the Forbidden Forest, I think, until at least the conclusion of the First Task. And you'll be attending your assigned detentions, though I reserve the right to reschedule them if they interfere with the Tournament."

"Okay."

"I also would like for you to come to my office each morning. Seven AM, I believe."

"Alright."

"And I think before the week is out you will be showing me where this 'dead body' is; it will need to be removed, barring its ghost's refusal, of course."

"Um, okay? But it _does_ smell pretty bad, you'll probably have to plug your nose."

Dumbledore gave a small chuckle, "I'm sure we can handle it. Now, get along; I believe Mr. Filch will be waiting for you in the Trophy Room."

Harry nodded, "Yes, sir." He then left for his first detention of the month, polishing trophies. If any of the students had asked him why he, the Hogwarts champion and Golden Boy had detention, he would have simply told them "I treated Snape like he treats me." and they would have instantly understood.

They did not ask, however, so instead it was common-assumption that he was being punished for circumventing the Age Line and entering the Tournament. As it was a very believable assumption, no one bothered to alter it in strange, unnecessary ways, such as finding some way of having it support the theory that Harry and Draco were finding a closet and doing the nasty on a daily basis.

And that was truly miraculous.

* * *

><p>Classes went about as well as expected Monday, though with the way the other houses were acting one would have thought that Harry had kicked all of their dogs, or stepped on their snakes in the case of the Slytherins; none of them were acting very civil, though at least Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were being somewhat polite about it.<p>

The Cold Shoulder was probably better than outright hostility, though even the Slytherins weren't in the business of attacking anyone unless provoked.

So the Hufflepuffs were cold to him in Herbology, though not hurtfully so, and Malfoy sneered and joked about him during Care of Magical Creatures.

Interestingly, the Magical Creatures themselves didn't seem to have much to say on the matter, no matter the direction; those few he'd seen that day that were intelligent enough to hold conversation were all distracted, likely picking up on the burning smell that Harry would sniff on the wind every so often. Any time he would smell it, he would notice one of the Hippogriffs suddenly look up and off into the Forest, as though to discern whether the forest itself were on fire or not.

In Charms he 'learned' _Accio_, the Summoning Charm, which he admitted to having already learned from a book somewhere, and then in Potions... well, Snape had merely pulled him from class, and set him to work cleaning the floor, Filch's way; in response to this odd sight, several Slytherins had decided to purposefully mess up their potions, making a steady stream of gloppy, outright dangerous mess for Harry to clean up like some sort of servant.

It wasn't until Tuesday that Dumbledore requested that Harry show him and Mr. Filch to the office where the dead body sat at a desk. Harry led them there, showed it to them, and again complained about the smell. That the mold and mildew were nearly fifty years old, and the bones were little more than remnants, nearly falling to dust themselves, hardly seemed to matter to the boy. Filch thought he was being dramatic, while Dumbledore wondered silently if, perhaps, Harry's feline nature was giving him a bit of trouble handling strong smells.

Harry merely wondered on how incredibly _intact_ the body was. Dead and long decayed, yes, but before that it had been almost mark-less, as though it had been killed by _Avada Kedavra_.

He didn't say this aloud, of course, but he certainly thought it rather loudly. He remembered the story that Professor Binns had simply woken up dead one morning, and couldn't help but to wonder just what had caused that death. The body that he had found did not belong to any of Hogwarts' ghosts, so it wasn't Binns, but who was he, and what happened to him?

Honestly, Harry didn't really care. His curiosity had been sated _long_ ago. But still, the thought was there.

Punishment for that day involved him scrubbing down the room as Filch and Professor Dumbledore removed the body; the smell made him a bit light-headed, but once the body had been removed well-enough, the smell started to drift away, leaving behind first a merely musty smell, followed eventually by the stale smell of flowing lake water, which just so happened to be what his brush was being periodically cleansed with.

By the end of the day the walls had been scrubbed clean, and Filch had gotten out a ladder with which Harry was expected to spend a portion of the next day scrubbing the ceiling; that Thursday was dedicated to getting his classwork done, supervised by Filch, who insisted he assist in cleaning up one of Peeves' failed stunts in a hall just beyond the dungeons once he was done working.

That hall was clean by morning, no magic involved.

Friday, eventually, came along, and Harry just about had enough practice at ignoring the antics of the School for the Daft, as he was coming to think of it, when Potions came along again, and again Snape set him to cleaning up the floor. The mess was worse this time, too, as several of the potions that had made it through the lesson earlier in the week had been allowed to ferment, and was now even more horrible, and horrible _smelling_, not to mention harder to get up.

It was something of a relief when Colin Creevy, whom Harry recognized as one of his 'fans', came to fetch him for something involving the Tournament. Harry dealt with the conversation silently, allowing Snape to bow to Dumbledore's whim, projected through a small boy, before allowing himself to be led away by that same small boy.

"It's amazing isn't it?" Colin had a bright look on his face, which kept darting away from Harry every few seconds, as though he were embarrassed to be so much as looking at him, "You being champion? It's amazing!"

"Would you have wanted to?"

Colin's eyes widened, "What?"

"If there hadn't been an Age Line, would you have entered?"

Colin's head shook violently back and forth, "No! I could never, I haven't learned enough! I'd be killed first thing, for sure!"

"Well, I didn't enter either. Someone else put my name in there." He silently reached to open the door that Colin indicated, sighing as he stared at it for a moment, "I don't like it. It's like someone's got me on a leash..." And without another word, he opened the door and entered, leaving Colin behind.

The furnishings were cozy, with a number of chairs set out and a small number of people already about; there was Viktor Krum looking as moody as usual and standing off to the side, Fleur looking as happy as she ever had lounging in one of the three velvet-covered chairs at the front of the room, a cameraman bearing a rather old camera and looking distractedly at Fleur off to the side, while Ludo Bagman was having a conversation with a witch that Harry didn't recognize.

That didn't last long, however, as Ludo immediately saw him and gave him a wide smile, "Ah! And now we're all here! Harry, I suppose you haven't yet met Rita Skeeter? She's going to be doing a small piece for the Tournament in the _Daily Prophet_."

The witch, who gave Harry chills just to look at, tittered a small laugh, "Oh, perhaps not _that_ small, Mister Bagman." She took a step toward Harry and gave him a once-over, "Now then, you would be Harry Potter, am I correct?"

Harry gave the woman a once-over in response, "You are. Rita Skeeter? I think I've read a few of your articles, if I remember right."

Miss Skeeter gave a small sort of laugh, with one hand held up elegantly, as though she thought his words were in compliment, "Charmed meeting you, Harry." She then turned to Mr. Bagman, "Mr. Bagman, would you mind if I interview Harry for a moment? Youngest contestant and all, you understand, to add a bit of color?"

"Why certainly! That is, if Harry has no objection?"

Harry didn't give them any chance to not give him a chance to say anything, instead saying in an almost whining tone, "Can I just go home, please?"

Rita Skeeter laughed charmingly, "Lovely!" She then snatched his arm and carted him off, bringing him to a broom closet, to 'get away from all the noise'. Once they were inside, she pulled out an acid-green quill and started speaking to it.

Harry stared when he realized that it wasn't writing what she was saying, but instead something entirely different. "Ah good," she snatched up the parchment and threw it away, bringing out a new one for the quill to write on.

Finally, it began, "So, Harry... what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

Harry blinked as he watched the quill, which seemed to almost quiver in anticipation of his response, "Er." Apparently, that was enough of a response, as the quill immediately started flying off, writing up some gibberish about his scar.

"Ignore the quill, Harry." Harry heard the words, but paid them no heed, "Now, why did you decide to enter the tournament?" Now it was going on about how beautiful Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent was, adding her question as an after-thought.

Tilting his head, Harry measured his response, considered a thousand possibilities, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Why _is_ that quill such an ugly color of green?" The quill seemed to be confused by this, but eventually wrote something about him having a revulsion to the color green.

"Now Harry, just ignore the quill, could you answer the question please?"

"And now it's writing about me being difficult. Does it always do that? I think it might be broken."

"Please, Harry, we don't need to be here all day-"

"I wonder if it really has a mind of its own-"

"How do you feel about the tasks ahead!? Excited? Nervous?" She suddenly spoke over him, trying to derail his train of thoughts.

"I think your quill is actually broken-"

"Ignore the quill-"

"No, I mean it, look! Now it's writing about my hair! See? About how it looks like a chicken's bottom?"

"What?" Skeeter looked at the quill, and indeed it had just written a passage about the odd arrangement of hair on the top of Harry's head, as though it had suddenly decided to provide light on that particular feature. That, however, didn't strike her as important, "Please, Harry, just answer my questions. How do you feel about the tasks? Excited or nervous?"

"Quick Quotes Quills aren't supposed to describe things, you know, only write down words flawlessly; you should really have it looked at." Harry nodded his head as the quill began writing a passage about the merits of Quick Quotes Quills.

"Honestly, Harry, I don't think this is really proper!"

"Did you know that they're sanctioned by the Ministry of Magic? Tampering with them is a very high offense." He nodded with determination as the quill went on about this, dictating about how tampering with a registered Quick Quotes Quill was worth a seven-day stay in Azkaban. "Of course, that's not nearly as bad as being caught using a Blood Quill."

_**Blood Quills, on the other hand, are worth a full month in Azkaban.**_

"Now really, Harry, there is nothing wrong with my quill. I've been doing this for quite some time-"

"Well then you should really have it checked out, as it doesn't seem to be doing you justice."

"Harry, _please_!"

_**Rita Skeeter begs to Harry Potter on bent knee, imploring with all her heart for the boy to give her another chance- perhaps with another quill, or one that hadn't been tampered with?**_

Harry laughed lightly, "Well, perhaps later, then, I think they want me out there. And you should really get that looked at." Harry opened the door to the broom closet and walked out, an amused-looking Dumbledore guiding him.

Skeeter fumed for several moments as she turned that entire encounter over in her mind. 'So that's how he wants to play, is it? Well, I'll show him.' She looked at what her quill had written so far.

It was utterly useless. Totally and unequivocally garbage. Not a single word of it was salvageable, not even Harry's parting words, which for some reason had been translated to: _**And yes, Miss Skeeter, that was a threat.**_

She stared at this line for some time... considering it. It would seem that someone had, indeed, jinxed her quill. She really _would_ have to get it checked out.

Oh, and she would be increasing the pressure on the Potter boy, most certainly.

* * *

><p>Harry arrived back at the main gathering, where it was explained that he'd been called there for something called the 'Weighing of the Wands', and that Mr. Ollivander, from the wand shop in Diagon Alley, was the expert who would be analyzing the contestants' wands. This made Harry immediately start rummaging around in his bag, which he had brought with himself and into which he explained he'd stuffed his wand. This, apparently, disappointed Mr. Ollivander, who thought it very irresponsible for him to treat his wand so thoughtlessly, while the other contestants seemed to be almost amused by the scene he was making.<p>

Fleur Delacour went first, and just as Harry had finally located his wand, she was being handed a bouquet made by her own wand; it was revealed at some point that she was part Veela, though Harry shrugged off the knowledge, figuring it didn't matter all that much. After all, he was nearly _all_ magical creature at this point, who was he to argue?

Viktor Krum went next, and his wand, which was apparently quite thick and rigid, produced a flock of birds that flew out the window. "Good. Mister Potter?"

Harry handed his wand over, and Mr. Ollivander seemed amused.

"Ah, yes. Yes, yes, yes, I remember this one." He frowned, however, "It seems to be starved for affection, however, you should pay it more attention..." Harry wasn't the only one to give the man an odd look at that, but Ollivander hardly seemed to notice, "Yes, yes, still well weighted, and its core, a Phoenix tail feather, is still as potent as ever. Could perhaps use a bit of varnish, but-" he suddenly waved the wand and produced a stream of wine from the end, "Yes, still as perfect as the day it left. Though I dare say-" The man handed Harry back his wand with an odd look, looking Harry over from top to bottom, "You should take a day off and put it through its paces; a powerful wand needs regular exercise, if you will, and you'll need it in top shape for the Tournament."

Harry blinked as he took back his wand, "Eh, right, I'll... do that." Mr. Ollivander nodded, satisfied, and then they were done.

Or they would have been, had Ludo Bagman and Rita Skeeter not insisted on photos. Both Harry and Krum kept trying to get out of frame, but Rita Skeeter kept trying to drag Harry back in, and then insisted on individual shots with each of the champions; by the time they were done the time for Potions was more or less up, so Dumbledore suggested they all simply go to supper. The other champions did so, though Harry hung back with Dumbledore, watching them go until they and their Headmasters were gone.

Finally, when it was only he, Dumbledore, and that silly reporter sitting near the back of the room, he asked, "I really can't get out of this, can I?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, "A binding magical contract will exact a heavy toll if it is not followed; crippling, I'd say."

"But I didn't do it? How could that affect me?"

"It is possible, though I dare say there's no real way of knowing, that the one who did this had used a Polyjuice of you; they would then have your magical signature, so the cup would believe it to be you, but they would still have their own age, and thus be able to cross the Age Line..."

"And if they didn't use a Polyjuice?"

Dumbledore rumbled that one over for a moment, but finally shook his head, "It wouldn't apply to them, since it wasn't their name, nor to you, since it wasn't your magical signature, the cup would have simply treated it as rubbish, but since the cup _didn't_ treat it as rubbish, and gave your name..."

"Then they probably did."

"Yes. It's too great a risk, and too much a coincidence."

Harry nodded, a determined look in his eye, "Then I guess I'll just have to win it."

Dumbledore smiled softly, "I'm sure you'll do your best." Harry gave him an odd look, then seemed to mentally shrug before taking his leave. "And what do _you_ think, Miss Skeeter?"

She flinched, hoping against hope that the man had forgotten about her, but shook her head, "I'm a reporter, it isn't really about what I think, now is it?"

He laughed, "Well, I suppose that would normally be true, but I _did_ ask your opinion, so I suppose that this time it matters."

Rita considered her words carefully, well aware that she had only recently gone about calling Dumbledore an 'obsolete Dingbat', though she didn't know whether he knew about that or not. "He is... interesting. To say the least." She had a smile on her face that, really, wasn't very wholesome, and which spoke volumes to Dumbledore, who really didn't need Legilimency to know what she was thinking.

Not that he would _use_ such a thing on such an esteemed public figure such as Rita Skeeter! No, no, no, there was no _telling_ what he might find in there, he could be scarred for life! Or, perhaps, sent to an early grave just from the shock. Best to leave that kettle of worms to Hagrid's Skrewts.

* * *

><p><em>Sirius,<em>

_I know this is probably a bit late, but about a week ago I got picked to be Hogwarts' champion for the Triwizard Tournament. __Professor Moody reckons my name got in there because somebody wants to kill me somehow, thinking I would die in one of the challenges __or something, I don't know. I really, really didn't enter, didn't want to, and still don't, but Professor Dumbledore says I can't get out of it, so I guess that's that._

_Which, I suppose, means I'll just have to win it._

_Cheers!_

_Harry_

* * *

><p>"Sorry girl, I'm going to have to use one of these other owls." Harry listened as Hedwig hooted indignantly, "Well, he's hiding, remember? And you're just too beautiful, people would recognize you." He laughed quietly as he caressed the owl's head lightly, her hooting losing its steam, though she was still indignant, "Yes, to anyone but him, I'll turn to you. That is if you aren't already out freezing your tail feathers off, working hard as I know you do." He poked her on the beak, and she nibbled his finger affectionately as Harry finished attaching his letter to the leg of an ordinary barn owl, which belonged to the school; Harry could tell that the owl he'd chosen was a bit put off by the obvious display between the human and that owl, but he was young, and would learn quickly that there was no point in giving such things any thought.<p>

He did his job, and really that was all that mattered.

Once the owl was out into open air, Harry sighed, "Well, Hedwig, I've got another day of detention. All this for acting like Snape. I suppose that'll teach me for acting like a slimy git, eh?" Hedwig hooted with amusement.

_"Him in you."_ She tilted her head almost at a right angle, looking him over, _"I don't see it."_ Harry laughed, stroking her head again.

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that." He waved her good-bye as he left, "See you later, girl."

She hoo'd softly in return, _"Later."_

* * *

><p>End Chapter 14<p>

* * *

><p>Well that one was fun. Harry got to act a bit out of the character he'd been building for himself, though at the same time not. The way I see it, the personality that Harry has been cultivating as a Mew is 'childish', and rather than perpetual playfulness, a childish personality is more characterized by straight-faced frankness and extremes of mood.<p>

Which is what he showed in this chapter. Of course he was also tired, hungry, and grumpy; those count, too.

I'm going to leave you all to guess as to how Harry's name got into the cup for Hogwarts; obviously it got in there for the fourth school, too, but fortunately that doesn't mean that Harry has to do everything twice, as that would be silly. It also doesn't mean that he's two competitors in one, so he won't be getting double the prize money when he wins it.

Which he will, of course; it would just be silly if he didn't.

Pokemon: Other than Mew (which I think should be obvious by now) there doesn't appear to be any Pokemon in this chapter. So....

I read the reviews for the previous chapter, and I have to say that I'm very pleased and flattered with all the support. Thank you all so very much! I hope three weeks (cough) is a quick enough update to be an improvement... and not considered slow. 8\ At any rate, a couple comments popped out at me. Someone mentioned character development, and while I can't say too much for fear of revealing too much plot-wise, a lot of the story to begin with was about how, at first, Harry was changing, and later how Harry's up-beat personality would clash with his downtrodden life; I remember reading somewhere about Harry looking back at photos of himself over the years, and commenting how he seemed to get more and more downtrodden over the years, and agreeing with the sentiment. I decided to take Harry when he was relatively innocent and bright-eyed, and turned him 'small, pink and furry', as one reviewer very aptly put it. As to Hermione: When I initially described her seeing her Animagus, I wasn't really one-hundred-percent on which species I wanted her to be, so I tried to be ambiguous. Later on, such as now, I look back and feel the ambiguity is even more appropriate; since Eevee is never born knowing what it will be in old age, it simply makes sense to me for Hermione to see lots of ambiguity in her 'vision'. Yup, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it, at least until I come up with something better or decide to change it, which I probably won't. As for Arithmancy: The class itself wasn't too important to Harry in the school, but being a class that JK Rowling never described, I felt it needed to be described. Honestly, there was no more reason for it than that. As for him taking it: Yes, it's important to the plot, but not as important as showing that Harry abandoned one class he couldn't stand to find another class he rather liked.

Also, to Ithileon: EEEK! BEES! Wasps, whatever! (phobic)

Thanks for all the support! You guys make this my favorite fic to work on! So until later!

Ciao for now!

Alex Ultra: From Normal To Nottingham

LATER


	16. Type Set Legacy

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

Chisame bugged me to get this out. Blame her. :P

* * *

><p>Chapter 15: Type-Set Legacy<p>

* * *

><p>The weeks up to the First Task were largely boring for Harry; not because of his detentions, nor because of a lack of school-work; that he wasn't allowed into the Forest upset him a bit, but was something he could deal with.<p>

Rather, it was avoiding the rest of the student body that kept making him feel bored. The closer it got to the First Task, the more that people seemed to want to crowd around him. It didn't help, either, that Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament. It was more a piece on the three Champions than anything, complete with various interviews about whom each champion 'fancied'. Apparently, Krum was looking for a thick-knee'd woman with long fingers; why? Because his classmates seemed to agree on the matter, at least according to Miss Skeeter.

Fleur Delacour had no shortage of suitors, but her classmates seemed to have decided that she wouldn't really take any man short of a real hero to sweep her off her feet, fitting the princess-like image that many of them saw her with, one that didn't make her very popular among the girls of Beauxbatons.

Harry, on the other hand, was apparently already going out with one Hermione Granger, since many people would attest that the two of them were rarely seen very far from one-another, ever since he had 'saved' her in the girl's bathroom during first year. The mention of this fact drove the rumor mill into a frenzy, and that combined with the already present knowledge of Harry's defeat of a Basilisk, among other things, made everyone fairly sure that he was a real shoe-in for the first place trophy.

Which was annoying to Harry because for some reason, no matter what happened, it always seemed to come back to the tournament. No longer did he dread its start, but instead each reminder that it hadn't started yet seemed to make him more impatient for them to simply get on with it.

The smell of smoke from the forest, too, kept getting stronger. Hagrid once offered to take him into the Forbidden Forest, likely to investigate what was making all the Magical Creatures so nervous, but Harry had had to decline: He had detention that day, and was still forbidden to go into the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid was disappointed, and offered to 'show him 'nother time', but Harry waved him off. "If y're sure, Harry, it sounds pretty impor'ant." Harry agreed that he was sure, and Hagrid almost surprisingly let it go.

To compensate for his days lost to detention and avoiding the student bodies, Harry was spending more and more time out of his bed: He would often spend nights not only wandering wherever he felt fit, but doing so in various forms, and even sleeping on the floor wherever he wanted. By the time he was finished with his detentions, he would rarely spend any of his free time at all as a human, yet had been just about everything else the school had to offer, including frogs, bats, owls, cats, and even a few different kinds of bugs and some magical creatures from Hagrid's little collection. Hermione wondered when he managed to get all his work done, but Harry shrugged her off, explaining that he got to it when he could find a quiet moment.

And those quiet moments were getting harder and harder to come by; less than three days before the First Task, he'd been found in an abandoned classroom, by a ghost of all things, and told that he needed to get to his bed. He barely remembered which ghost it was, but merely shrugged and went off, finding another room in which to do his work.

He hadn't had much contact with his friends over the last two days before the First Task, instead merely keeping busy, trying to keep his mind off of what was most likely coming.

He would later wonder if, perhaps, it would have been best if he'd visited his room a bit more often those days as he had apparently missed a very important letter, and on the day before the First Task, a Monday, he found a very irritated owl perched on his bed waiting for him. _"Made me wait three days!"_ the owl screeched at him, angrily pecking his finger as it dropped the letter.

"Ow! I'm sorry." He pouted as he rubbed his finger, watching the owl fly off.

"You'd better open it, mate." Ron chuckled as he watched Harry pout, "I just gotta know what it says."

Harry did as suggested, still pouting lightly, and read the letter.

_Harry,_

_ I heard about the Tournament, quite a bind, that is. I'd like to talk more, but it's too dangerous to use letters. See if you can be by the fire at around one o'clock tonight, alright?_

_ Snuffles_

Harry blinked, tilting his head sideways as Neville asked, "What is it?"

"Oh, I guess I was supposed to be meeting someone..." after a short calculation, he added, "Two days ago." Ron and Dean laughed, and even Neville got a smile out of it. "Guess I'll have to write him back."

"Probably." Ron grinned as he lounged on his bed, "They're going to be cutting classes for the First Task, y'know? You're pretty popular, Harry."

Harry shrugged, getting out a quill and piece of parchment, "I dunno, I'm more worried about the smoke I keep smelling. I got another whiff during Care of Magical Creatures this morning. It has me a bit worried..." Harry couldn't help the furtive glance he gave the window as he sat, despite that the window pointed in the opposite direction to the smell of smoke.

"I didn't smell anything?" Seamus Finnigan had a puzzled, though thankfully not disbelieving look on his face.

"Oh come off it Harry, aren't you at least a little worried about the First Task?"

Harry gave Ron a shocked, yet confused look, "What? I'm here aren't I?"

Ron blinked, "What? What d'you mean?"  
>"Well, I figured I'd best get a good night's sleep for once, right?" Besides, he'd accidentally gotten on the Bloody Baron's watch list after knocking over an old dusty book-case in what looked like an unused study somewhere in the dungeons.<p>

"Where _do_ you go at night? And how do you avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris?" Seamus leaned inward, a puzzled, earnestly curious expression on his face.

Harry chuckled, "I get around. I wander until I get tired, sometimes do my classwork; can't stay in one place too much, y'know?"

"Yeah, but how do you avoid Mrs. Norris?" Dean had a sort of 'you didn't answer the question' expression on his face.

"Well, I guess I must be lucky. In fact, I think she's avoiding me. Don't know why." Though he _did_ have some idea... possibly.

Neville sighed, "You're going to need that luck," he pulled himself into his bed, "For tomorrow, I bet."

Harry shrugged, "Yeah." He then composed a quick letter.

_Snuffles,_

_ Sorry I missed your letter, set another date?_

_ Harry_

That done, he nodded to himself, "I'll take it to the owls in the morning. Think I'll turn in early tonight."

Ron yawned, "You've got a real funny 'early', mate." He was the only one not already beneath his blankets, and seemed to be on the way to crawling beneath them.

Harry chuckled, "Alright, lights out then."

Someone mumbled a quiet 'g'night', and they all turned in.

* * *

><p>The first thing Harry did upon waking up was... well, wait for dawn, since he'd awoken well before sunrise. Then, the moment he could see the sun, he made his way to the owlry, where he attached his letter to a small black owl before heading off for breakfast.<p>

As usual of late he was a popular face, and there was definitely a distinct air of excitement, but the fact that the day had finally come seemed to have pressed a sense of quiet anticipation on everyone's shoulders, seemingly keeping them in their seats. Even Malfoy managed to hold off on his snide comments, hardly even looking at Harry, though he wore his '_Krum's The One!_' badge proudly, along with most of the other Slytherins and even several of the Durmstrang students.

History of Magic, similarly, was just as boring as ever, but with that sense of anticipation making Professor Binns' droning even more unbearable, as though the boredly-talking ghost were everyone's only obstacle to the greatest moment of their lives.

Harry didn't allow any of this to impact his nerves, though, instead finding something in the _Study_ to occupy his time; Binns either didn't notice or didn't care about the blatant misuse of his class-time, droning blankly on as though several brick walls wouldn't stop him. Which, considering he was a ghost, was rather appropriate.

Lunch was where things would finally get a move on, and Harry finally dug his nose even deeper into his book, finding several articles about creatures capable of breathing fire; it seemed as though the spread was pretty even between reptiles, amphibians, mammals and avians. Even a few insects had fire-conjuring abilities, though in insects it was often self-destructive, chemical based, or barely controllable; all three in Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts, though to Harry's consternation those little beasties didn't seem to exist in the _Study_, suggesting at the very least that they weren't tropical.

"That's right, Potter; best not eat anything, lest you lose it in front of the whole school."

Ron growled, "Shove it, Malfoy."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll shove _you_."

"Oi, got your Weasel friend for protection have you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered lightly as Crabbe and Goyle chuckled emptily, as though they didn't actually understand the joke but thought it best to laugh anyway.

"Oh leave him alone Malfoy."

"And why should I, Granger?"

"Because he's not even paying attention to you, see?" Hermione pointed at Harry, who had, indeed, shown no indication that he'd noticed the conversation at all, nose still in his book.

Ron, much like Malfoy, thought Harry's inattentiveness very unbecoming, "Harry. Hey, Harry! Mate, wake up, you there?" Ron waved his hand in front of Harry's face, snapping him out of his miniature trance, causing the boy to look up and blink with confusion.

"What? Time to go already?"

Malfoy sniffed indignantly, "Better watch yourself out there, Potter, or else you might just find yourself with that stupid look burned off your face."

Harry watched with confusion as Malfoy walked off with the obvious gait of someone who was trying to salvage his image after a failed confrontation. He then turned to Ron, "Did I miss something?"

Ron rolled his eyes, "Harry... I wish I knew how you did it."

"Did what?"

"Shut Malfoy out like that."

Harry scrunched up with confusion, "I do?" Ron only sighed in response.

Harry then noticed Professor McGonagall hurrying towards him with an urgent expression on her face, "Potter, the champions have to come down to the grounds now, to get ready for the first task."

"Alright," Harry stood, picking up his book before handing it to Hermione, "Take care of this for me?"

Hermione took the book, "Sure, Harry, good luck."

"Yeah, good luck mate."

* * *

><p>"Now then, I'll open this bag here, and you'll pick out the one you're going to be facing. Er, there's <em>varieties<em>, see." Mr. Bagman clapped his hands once with a great grin on his face, "Now then! Let's get on with it!" Mr. Bagman found a cloth bag in a corner of the tent where the three champions had been ushered, there they were all currently trying to ignore the sounds of excited children walking by like the sound of a great talking stampede.

He opened the bag importantly and offered it to the room, "Ladies first." Harry heard a small sigh from Fleur Delacour, but she reached into the bag and pulled out... a small red dragon.

"Now then, next." Krum went next, and he pulled out... a small _green_ dragon. "And Harry." Finally, it was Harry's turn. He reached into the bag, and pulled out a small black dragon, the meanest-looking of the three. It had a small number three hanging from its neck.

Bagman closed the bag with a smile, "Now then! Your task is to get the golden egg from the nest of your chosen dragon; you only have to get past them, so do it however you like!"

Harry frowned, "Mr. Bagman?"

"Yes Harry?" Krum and Fleur gave a pair of low sounds as Bagman turned his excited face on Harry.

Harry held up his figure, "What _are_ they?"

"Oh! Well, of course. The one Miss Delacour has is called a Chinese Fireball, Mr. Krum's is a Welsh Green, and you, my boy, have a Hungarian Horntail."

"But... it's so small!" Harry toyed with the wings of his miniature dragon, making it snarl angrily.

"Well the real thing will be loads bigger, I imagine." Bagman chuckled with amusement at Harry's odd expression, "Just remember to keep your wits about you and _play to your strengths!_"

"Dragons breathe fire, right?"

Everyone blinked at that, "Well, yes, of course."

"I _knew_ it!" Harry seemed to have finally figured out something important, though to the other occupants of the tent he simply seemed to have... well, lost it, honestly.

"Right, well, I'll be commentating, so I'd best be going." Before leaving, though, he pulled Harry to the side, leaning down a bit to whisper at him, "Harry, my boy, you _have_ got a plan, haven't you? Because I wouldn't mind sharing a few pointers, if you haven't got anything." He tittered a bit, looking back at the other competitors before focusing back on Harry, "I mean, you're the underdog here, so anything I can do to help..."

Harry played with his figurine, "I bet Hagrid would have kittens if he knew about this."

"About what?"

"The dragons-" a whistle blew in the distance, and Bagman's eyes suddenly widened and he ran off.

"Good lord! I've got to go! Good luck!" Harry merely shrugged, returning to playing with his figurine.

Harry didn't pay much attention as Viktor Krum took his turn at the dragon, Bagman's commentary echoing around as Fleur Delacour paced nervously inside the tent, seemingly sour at Harry's nonchalance.

There was some cheering, Bagman mentioned something about scores, and then soon after Fleur was called out, and Harry was alone.

Instead of listening to what was going on outside, he found himself imagining standing against a life-sized variant of the figure in his hand. It was big, and powerful, and dangerous, but he was small, quick, and pretty powerful in his own right, or so he figured; probably not powerful enough to take on a dragon head-on, but he was willing to try. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he imagined flying around like a little fly, bouncing off the head of the dragon that seemed to only get larger as it got more angry, the more he found himself grinning like mad.

And then he heard his name being called, which finally snapped him out of his daydream, "Mr. Potter, if you please?"

A sort of hushed excitement came over the crowd as he came out, stalking forward with a bit of a spring in his step, still grinning a bit.

He walked to his place, across the way from a large black lizard, which was staring angrily at him; he didn't meet its eyes right away, instead studying its body; its wings were as great as he'd imagined, tail as horrifying as could be, and legs as thick and muscular as those of a giant.

Then he looked it in the eye... and held the gaze for a moment. He grinned, taking a half-step forward before raising his wand, uttering a single spell, "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

The Hungarian Horntail lowered herself slightly, snarling viciously as she watched what he was doing; his spell, in the mean time, had coalesced into a pink mass at the tip of his wand, and after spinning for a while had finally gathered the distinctive red-topped, white-bottomed appearance that he had quickly become accustomed to the previous year.

"Let's see what I get. LET'S GO!" He swung his wand back, then flicked it forward again, launching the ball nearly twenty feet from his person, almost halfway between him and the dragon, where it landed with a great silver flash.

From the flash stepped a great beast: Four legged with a lithe figure, it seemed to carry clouds on its back and sparkled with every movement; its very presence seemed to have cooled the air down considerably, and he took a few steps toward it as it roared silently, that silence seeming to carry to the crowd.

"Harry seems to have summoned some form of beast! Could that truly be a Patronus? Or has he come up with some _other_ spell?"

Harry looked his Patronus over, smiling as he did so; it was beautiful, like some sort of dog, a greyhound, even. It seemed obvious that it was built for speed, "Shall we?" It gave him a fierce look, and nodded. "Go." It dashed off toward the dragon, which panicked, rearing back and spitting a great stream of flame at the odd summons.

"_Accio Firebolt!_" Harry summoned his broom, aware of the fact that he couldn't fly without it so long as everyone could see him, but what happened next made his concerns a moot point, as the creature he'd summoned had reacted in kind to the dragon's attack, stopping its charge to fire a stream of its own, this one of water.

When the two streams met, the heavier water kept going down the middle of the fire, while the fire kept going around the edges of the water; his Patronus took the flames head-on and barely flinched, while the dragon reacted with a horrible, pained screech; unfortunately the crowd couldn't see that by this point as a great bank of heavy, dense fog had exploded from the combined attacks, engulfing Harry just as his Firebolt came to him.

Inwardly, he grinned, '_Wow! I bet this is thick enough I can change back!_' He grabbed his Firebolt and used it to launch himself into the air, where he quickly transformed into Flash, hopping onto the broom and steering it with his feet like some sort of surfboard, an incredible smile on his face.

The dragon was making quite a bit of noise, still thrashing about and roaring angrily as its fire and his Patronus' water kept making more and more steam, making it hard for even him to see what was actually going on; he flew closer to get a better look, but had to take a quick dive to the ground when a great spiked tail came out of nowhere to nearly gore him in the face, 'Whoa! That was close!'

His sixth sense was going into overdrive, trying to find some way of sensing the beast's limbs rather than just its presence, and he wasn't having much luck with it, even as he weaved between its legs looking for a weakness.

_**"STAY AWAY FROM MY NEST!!!"**_A burst of fire descended on Harry from above and he had to quickly dart to the side, nearly running himself into the beast's great tail, forcing him to back away quickly, which just so happened to take him directly over top the dragon mother's nest.

As he passed, he got a glimpse of the eggs in the nest.

_**"GET AWAY!!"**_ Harry darted straight up as another stream of fire engulfed his position, covered by the dragon being hit in her side by a powerful stream of water.

'I have to get her away from those eggs.' Putting thought to action Harry reached forward and pulled hard on the broom, taking him on a tight arc over the distracted dragon, where he came back down to hover beside his Patronus.

He and his Patronus shared a look, then it dashed forward, stopping just beyond the dragon's striking range; Harry, meanwhile, transformed into a human and began taking small, meaningless shots at the dragon's flank. Since she couldn't see him, all she could tell was that something was trying to tickle her from afar; that combined with the silvery beast, which continued to merely annoy her from just beyond her reach, was angering her to just the limit of her patience.

Snarling and snapping, she would breathe fire every few moments, dispelling a small amount of fog that would quickly roll back just as thick as before; he would dart in toward it, only to pass within moments of a set of fangs or a very sharp tail before plunging back into the veil of mist, whence his Patronus would take its turn.

If at all possible, the Horntail's screaming became even more rage-filled as she began spewing the dragon equivalent of curse words, her roars bouncing off of walls unseen and creating an almost continuous cacophony of deadly, enraged sounds.

In the back of his mind, Harry decided that he wanted her to fly, to lift off the ground, so he began to float just a little bit higher, making the great lizard crane her neck back to snap at him; his Patronus, seeing what he was doing, kept to itself for just a moment, and this seemed to embolden her as she suddenly reared up, wide leathery wings catching air more for balance than for flight at the moment.

Instead of biting at him like he'd expected, though, she instead opened her mouth and shot a burst of flame directly into his face; his Patronus reacted instantly, putting up enough water between him and the flames to save him from them, but the explosion of steam that resulted from it was enough to surprise the beast, making her tilt back ever so slightly. In fact, she tilted farther than even her wings and tail were able to recover from.

She was about to fall. Dangerously close to her eggs. 'NO!'

Acting quickly Harry transformed and dove down, leaving his broom behind, to stop just over the nest, preparing himself for the arrival of the falling dragon...

"That last roar sounded almost victorious, I might say! Though there's no telling what might be happening in there, I don't know if our Champion will- what is this? The fog has turned pink! Ladies and gentlemen, we have pink fog! Although we've already determined that the fog was magical, never in all my years have I witnessed a fog of such a bright-" The stands literally lurched, nearly dislodging several of their occupants, as a great crashed echoed across the grounds, "Merlin! What was that!? If I'm not mistaken, that felt quite a bit like something heavy, perhaps as heavy as a Dragon, falling to the ground!" They then heard the sounds of a dragon, moaning painfully yet still with plenty of anger, and the taking of several heavy steps. "It sounds hurt! Ladies and gentlemen, if I'm not mistaken the dragon's roars, vicious and strong only moments ago, now seem rather weak and withdrawn! Could this mean that our champion is victorious?"

_**"You will not take my eggs, Land Keeper..."**_ The dragon slowly took her place, standing over her nest with a protective posture as Harry backed away, having done his job in protecting them from their own falling mother. Apparently, his having done so proved that he didn't want them harmed, so now she seemed to think he wanted to take them from her.

He looked at the nest, then looked back up at her, '[_And the fake one?_]'

She growled, _**"Fake...?"**_

'[_The wizards put it there._]'

_**"Wizardsss..."**_ Her growls became one tone from hateful when she responded.

'[_I am to retrieve it._]'

Suddenly she roared, _**"I CAN'T UNDERSTAND A WORD YOU'RE SAYING!"**_ Her roar was punctuated by a burst of flame, sent blindly into the fog; Harry inwardly complained about the dragon's resistance to magic, sure somehow that it was the reason she hadn't heard him.

Increasing his concentration, he focused on the dragon's eyes, pressing into the golden orbs with his own brightly glowing pink ones. '[_It is mine. Give it to me._]'

For a moment neither of them moved, the dragon's eyes pressing back into his, searching for weakness, for vulnerability; he didn't let up. She had called him Land Keeper, which he thought meant she recognized him as master of these lands; he hoped that would be enough.

Finally, she growled again, _**"What's yours is yours, but leave what's mine be."**_She backed away only one step, and watched him like a hawk as he floated forward.

He got another glimpse at the eggs; inside each one was a baby dragon. He could never take a mother's children away. The fake one, though, held no life at all. It was empty.

He picked it up and moved away several yards, never turning his back to the dragon. Finally he stopped, transformed into a human, and bowed deeply; she took her place over her eggs and gave him a low, rumbling growl, which was his signal to leave. He turned to his Patronus, and nodded, it nodding back to him before dissolving into a silvery mist, which blew away on a northerly breeze.

"I can't say for sure, but I think it must be over now; it would seem that a breeze has come up, and is blowing the fog away. If I'm not mistaken, we'll be seeing the results of our Third Champion's battle now."

People from three schools and just as many countries strained their eyes and ears watching and waiting, trying to get an elusive first glimpse of either a victorious young man, or a corpse.

Dumbledore smiled as the fog began to lift in earnest, blowing slowly to the south, "Ah, I do believe that is young Mr. Potter now."

Harry heard the judges mumbling as he approached them, fake golden egg tucked beneath one arm. He noted several people he recognized, and their reactions had him both amused and confused; Mr. Bagman seemed elated while Mr. Crouch seemed as unimpressed as ever, Professor Karkaroff had become rather sour-faced at some point, Madam Maxime had an impressed expression on her face, and Professor Dumbledore seemed as mysterious and jubilant as ever.

"Mr. Potter, couldn't you have at least let us watch? Now we won't know how to score you."

Harry gave the old man an apologetic smile, "Sorry Professor, I didn't know my Patronus could do that. Right useful, though."

"I imagine so."

Several wizards moved on the dragon, eliciting more enraged roars before she was stunned to unconsciousness; Harry couldn't help but to watch worriedly, hoping that the eggs remained safe. The wizards, though, seemed to put just as much emphasis on the eggs as he did, and were careful to steer their mother clear before she went down.

While he was distracted, the judges were hard at work figuring out his score, but Professor McGonagall made sure that he wouldn't be there while they made their decision, "Good work, Potter. Now then, best make your way to Madam Pomfrey, make sure it didn't scratch you; though you don't _appear_ to have been caught at any point."

"Alright." Harry nodded as he made his way over to a tent toward which Professor McGonagall was pointing, and where Madam Pomfrey was standing, a sour look on her face.

"Dragons, honestly." She ushered Harry inside, then waved her wand over him, muttering a spell below her breath; she then looked at him, "Well, not a scratch. May as well get a move along, then. Stroke of luck, really."

He met Ron and Hermione on the way out of the tent; Ron was going on about how incredible he'd been, though he complained at not being able to see a thing, for which Harry apologized again; Hermione on the other hand seemed to want to fret over him, checking him for injuries and insisting he sit down to catch his breath.

To Ron he gave his appreciation, and he assured Hermione that he was perfectly fine as he went to look, watching and waiting to see what would be his score.

"They score from one to ten; Fleur's in the lead so far, managed to put her dragon into some kind of trance; good thing it didn't snore as she was getting past, or else she likely would've gone up in flames. Krum shot some sort of spell directly into its eyes; it worked, but the dragon crushed half the real eggs in its pain; they took off points for that, he wasn't supposed to hurt them."

"Oh, well I should be just fine then."

"Look, they're about to score him!" Hermione pointed to where the judges sat, and true to form they started giving scores; each score was like a silver ribbon floating up from the tip of the judge's wand. The first was Madame Maxime, who gave him a seven.

"Not bad, but I guess if they couldn't see what you were doing..."

Mr. Crouch went after that, giving Harry what looked to be an eight. Then Dumbledore, another eight, Bagman, a nine, and finally Karkaroff, who gave him a three.

"Wow, Harry, I thought you'd have it for sure..."

"What? Did I do alright?"

"Harry, you got third place."

"Oh, that's bad then."

"I guess they didn't like that they couldn't see what you were doing." Harry was about to say something when Ron's brother George showed up.

"Harry! Harry, Bagman wants a word, back in the champion's tent. Great job by the way, can't believe you didn't get a better score; Karkaroff gave Krum a ten, you know?" He took a breath, then turned to leave, "I'd better go, send mum a letter, promised I would, y'know."

"Sorry you couldn't see it..."

"Yeah, well, makes for a shorter letter that way, doe'n't it? Heh, better get going! Good job, Harry!" He then walked off with a wave, leaving Harry and Ron behind.

The two of them shared a smile, then Harry sighed and turned to the champions' tent, "Well, I'd better see what Mr. Bagman wants."

"I'll wait out here." Harry nodded his assent and went to the tent.

Inside, Krum was surly-looking, Fleur seemed proud of herself, and Harry found a nice chair to lounge on; oddly, the moment he started his lounging, Krum became even more surly-looking, and Fleur suddenly turned slightly nervous, though exactly why Harry couldn't tell.

Then Mr. Bagman came in, bouncing happily and looking over the three of them with the brightest of expressions, "Well done, well done! All of you! Now then, just a few quick words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth - but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! Do you see those golden eggs you're all holding? They open! See the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg - because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go then!" Bagman left the tent, holding the flap open for Fleur on his way out; Krum made his own way out, and Harry left just after him, he and Ron going back up to Gryffindor Tower.

The party that was waiting for them went through much of the night; it got to a quick start with Lee Jordan setting off some Filibuster's Fireworks, followed by the twins bringing up load after load of sweets; cakes, pumpkin juice and butterbeer by the mountain were brought in. Harry tried to limit himself, knowing that if he had too much of the stuff he wouldn't be able to sleep 'til the second task, so instead he merely reveled in the atmosphere; his House-Mates kept cheering, throwing up sparks with their wands that would join with those of the fireworks, Dean Thomas had put up a set of posters that he'd drawn himself, which all depicted Harry with a great, brave smile on his face as he zoomed around the Horntail's head, others depicting the strange dog-thing that Harry had summoned during the fight casting some sort of magic fog beam at the dragon. Dean had explained that he'd had to take artistic license with the posters, since he couldn't actually see what Harry had done, but Harry admitted that it was a pretty accurate depiction, since it was his Patronus who did most of the actual fighting.

A few people asked what the Patronus was, so Harry explained that it was a special spell for fighting off Dementors, which he had asked Professor Lupin to teach him the previous year, since he had such a problem with them.

"It was really cool, can you teach us to do it?"

Harry scratched his head, then shrugged, "Well the wand motion is like this-" he waved his wand, watching with satisfaction as Dean mimicked him, "And the incantation is _Expecto Patronum._" Quite by accident Harry found that the spell activated, producing the little ball of pink, which resolved slowly into red and white. "Oh, er, sorry, didn't mean to cast it. Anyway, to make it work you have to think of your happiest memory; like the best, happiest thing that's ever happened to you." A few people laughed at that, figuring that Harry must have been happy enough now to cast it by accident.

Dean and several other people watched oddly as the ball of red and white formed completely, then as Harry flicked it idly to the ground, where the ball opened up in a flash of silver... to reveal some sort of small cat with a wide smile, curly tail, and some sort of charm on its forehead(1); it yawned silently, looking up at the crowd around it, acting curious. "But that's not what it was earlier?"

"It changes each time for me; Professor Lupin says it doesn't usually, but I guess mine's just different. Never know exactly what I'm going to get, just that it's usually something useful."

The cat found a corner and curled up for a nap, inviting several people to pet it distractedly; Fred and George watched from afar, joking about having spelled some treat or another as Dean raised his own wand and tried the spell, "_Expecto Patronum._" Nothing happened, so a few other people tried it as well; the combination made the air in the common room slightly misty, but overall didn't have much of an effect.

"You have to pick your happiest memory; the happier the better, and the harder you concentrate on it the better."

Dean nodded, seeming to think for a moment before asking, "What do _you_ think about?" Harry grinned, laughing softly.

"That's a secret."

"Alright fine, just... give me a minute..." He seemed to concentrate... then tried again, along with much of the rest of the room; he along with several other people produced fine mists; the strongest were Ron, Dean, Neville, Ginny Weasley, and a few upperclassmen Harry didn't recognize, though nearly everyone produced at least a little bit of a glow.

"Great! Great! That's wonderful; the real trick is casting it with a Dementor sucking the happy thoughts out of you as quick as you can think of them-" or making you go into a blind attack mode "-but the more you practice, the better you'll get."

"How long did it take _you_ to get it?"

Harry shrugged, but a loud "_SQUAWK!_" interrupted him and he, along with everyone else, turned to see a large canary acting quite surprised as the twins laughed loudly.

"Canary Creams! Fred and I just invented them! Seven sickles each - A bargain!" Before anyone could come forward, though, the canary suddenly squawked again and started flapping frantically, a silver blur swiping at its tail-feathers.

"Ah! Come back!" Harry darted forward, chasing after his Patronus, who had apparently decided the large bird wanted to play; it jumped into the air, pulled back one of its paws, glowed, then seemed to throw what appeared to be large coins, which hit the bird and scattered to the floor; by the time Harry got to it and poked his wand to it, banishing it, the bird was already molting. "Sorry about that..."

The bird kept molting, eventually turning back into Neville Longbottom. He picked up one of the odd disks, which disappeared soon after; the room was laughing pretty heartily by now, and Neville couldn't help but to start laughing as well; several people bought the creams soon after, and shortly there was a near crowd of person-sized canaries fluttering and squawking, Harry reveling in all of it.

After all; for the moment, at least, everyone was celebrating something that he was truthfully responsible for. They weren't babbling excitedly about his scar, his Firebolt, or about how fast he was on that Firebolt or how it could win them some sort of championship. Hermione approached the twins about something, Ron was busy stuffing his face, and even Neville had tried a second Canary Cream, commenting that they were actually rather tasty.

Then Lee Jordan picked up the golden egg, "Blimey this is heavy!"

Harry looked to where the boy was holding the golden egg, "Oh?" Lee nodded as he set it back on the table, some of the others inspecting it idly, Lee smiling back at Harry.

"Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own, it's the tournament rules...." Hermione crossed her arms decisively as she said this.

"Go on, Harry, open it!" Most of the room acted as though they hadn't heard Hermione, and Harry shrugged; he needed to work out the clue, so he may as well have it done sooner than later.

He picked up the egg, and dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it to prise it open.

It was hollow and completely empty, but the moment Harry opened it the most horrible screeching sound erupted from inside it; most of the room recoiled back, shouting about shutting it, but Harry hardly heard them, having covered his ears in pain the moment he'd opened it; he couldn't remember hearing anything so horrible, and he found himself stumbling backwards as his ears tried to adapt to the assault.

Finally someone, Hermione, managed to shut the egg back up as Harry recoiled on the floor, still covering his ears.

"What was that?" someone asked, though Harry barely heard them, feeling as though his ears had just been attacked, "Sounded like a banshee. Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"

"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who was covered in molted feathers and very, very white, "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," George retorted, "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing... maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry." He grinned and laughed as he said this, bringing back Harry's jubilant mood as he fought his way back to his feet.

"Whatever it was, I'm not looking forward to it. There's got to be more to it..." He shook his head, still holding it as a throbbing pain began to subside.

"Did it really hurt that bad, Harry?" Hermione sounded worried as she put the egg, gingerly, back on the table.

Harry nodded, "Felt like a jackhammer on my brain." This, of course, went right over the heads of most of his classmates, who didn't know what a jackhammer was, but they understood the sentiments of a large, heavy object slamming into one's head.

"Maybe you should talk to Dumbledore, see if he has any advice..."

"Or maybe if you just muffle it; it might just be too loud to hear, right?"

Fred laughed, "Yeah, take it to bed with you, Harry!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "No thanks; I don't want to wake up to screaming in the middle of the night because I rolled over in bed."

"Me either." Neville eyed the egg carefully, obviously considering the prospect and not liking it one bit.

"Well you've got a few months to figure it out. No point in doing it right away, right?"

"Right."

* * *

><p>The weather took a turn for the worse when December rolled around, and again the castle and the grounds were all very chilly, but Harry hardly noticed the cold, barely even felt it.<p>

Not that he didn't _recognize_ it, it was simply that it didn't seem to matter to him like it probably ought to have; Hermione kept giving him furtive glances, as though he would fall over and die, and even Ron kept asking him if he thought it was cold.

Honestly, Ron was having more trouble with the cold than Harry was; between the heating charm over his bed and the charms Hermione still insisted on putting on his clothes, Harry was downright toasty. It got bad enough that he purposely started making the charms on his clothes wear off, just to get some relief from the heat; not only that, but he'd also been spending many nights out of his bed, in the dungeons, in the forest, or just out on the grounds somewhere.

He had more worry for the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, who all had to live in either a boat that was constantly pitching wildly on the lake, or a large carriage that likely wasn't really made to hold people over a long period in such cold conditions.

Most of Hagrid's magical creatures were made to deal with the cold, being largely native anyway, but a few had to be kept in a large building with fires going in their center; Harry would periodically clean out the fire pit to keep the air at least relatively fresh, and scrubbed some of the floors to get rid of the several years of muck that Hagrid hadn't thought to be rid of, or had the time to clean out.

That witch from the Daily Prophet had come by one day during Care of Magical Creatures and suggested an interview with Hagrid, who seemed flattered by the idea. Once she had gone, Harry took a moment or two to warn Hagrid about the sneaky, borderline-dishonest (or perhaps extraordinarily dishonest?) witch with the acid green quill.

Hagrid promised he'd be careful, but somehow that didn't quell his, Hermione and Ron's fears.

Arithmancy, as promised, was picking up speed as well; Harry was certainly learning new things, and the realization that many of the mathematical concepts were as applicable to Electrical Engineering as to Arithmancy had Harry doubly determined to pick up as much of it as he could; Hermione would periodically ask him for his notes, and he would oblige her.

Then, over the first weekend of December, Harry had what he would think back on as being one of many great adventures for the year.

* * *

><p>Harry Mew'd a merry tune as he floated down endless corridor after endless corridor; sometimes he would rather randomly turn right, other times he would rather randomly turn left, and other times he would rather randomly decide not to make any turns at all. He found a lot of dead-ends, and in response would merrily turn back around. In all, it was a nice way to spend a weekend away.<p>

Having finally found a free weekend, Harry had ventured into the Labyrinth beneath Hogwarts and gotten himself lost in it. He didn't bring anything with him other than his wand and a book to read if he got bored, and was content that way.

As an idle thought that occurred at some unnameable point in his adventure, Harry wondered, and then he supposed the faculty must have _some_ way of locating students lost in the Labyrinth, else there would be fewer and fewer Slytherins each year; there was no doubt in Harry's mind that a few of them would wander in there from time to time, whether by accident, on purpose, or because of 'an accident'.

And from that thought Harry suddenly wondered if Professor Snape would come find him at some point, only to blather on for a good hour about how he felt entitled because he was famous. Honestly! If he liked being famous, would he _really_ be trying to get lost?!

Of course, the longer he wandered the Labyrinth, the more familiar with it he became: So long as he was watching where he was going, it seemed this his mind was perfectly capable of memorizing every turn, every stone, every crook and nanny. In short: He already knew the way back out, provided the maze wasn't constantly refashioning itself.

Which, he supposed was a real possibility, but so far none of his randomly-chosen paths had crossed each-other, and by Sunday morning he nearly had the layout for a complete Labyrinth in his head. The _real_ question was: What was in the center, and where did that other hallway lead?

For some reason, he didn't really care all that much what might be in the center. Chances were it was either a Magical Creature that had been imprisoned in the Labyrinth, or the remains of it. Rarely were Labyrinths made to protect treasure; chances were, a Minotaur had been caught in there and not allowed back out; frankly, the level of complication to the maze ensured that a normal human would take nearly three months just to reach the center, _if_ they knew their way in.

Of course, Harry could fly at a pretty good clip, so he could probably have made it there in a few hours, but that was hardly the point. Whatever was in there was most likely safe from curious students, who would either die or be whisked away by teachers before dying.

That other hallway, however, was an oddity. It was shaped, carved and even lit exactly like the entrance, but Harry's memory flagged it as being _not_ the entrance.

That, and it smelled only of dust and magical fire, with not even a trace of the smells of life. And thus, he felt, it needed to be explored.

What he found there was a hallway that went straight out for a while, then expanded gently on either side, opening into a chamber easily large enough to hold all of the Hogwarts Library, Great Hall, and the surface of Lake Hogwarts _combined_, yet was seemingly perfectly empty, save for a few stones that had been dislodged from their places and left scattered out on the floor.

At the opposite end of the intricately hewn cavern was a flat wall set inside a stone arch, the only break in the semi-circle visible from the entrance. And, as it was an obvious place to go, Harry went there.

It was a door, and behind it.... was an empty room. It had obviously been used for something in the past, and the signs of residual magic made themselves known to his senses, but now... it was just empty.

About the size of a standard dorm, the floor was made of many, many stones, similar to the workmanship of Hogwarts itself, while the walls were perfectly smooth, and bore no torches.

Seeing the smooth walls of the room, Harry suddenly got a _wonderful_ idea.

Ten minutes later, he had crafted a series of runes into a wall, and finally cast his spell, '_Lumos._'

Although his mouth had technically said "Mew", the spell took hold just the same: The runes he'd drawn on the wall suddenly activated, giving off a pure white light that lit the room as though the sun itself were shining into it.

Suddenly, he looked out into the cavernous area behind him, finding rocks of every shape and size that had been dislodged from the ceiling, walls, or even floor: He quickly gathered up several dozen of them, and put them in the room.

By the time Monday rolled around, the room and cavern beyond were bathed in a perpetual, perfectly white glow.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 15<p>

* * *

><p>And that's the end of Chapter 15. Exciting, I know; next chapter is important, though I'm not going to say here exactly why I say that. Let you folks wonder for a bit, hehe.<p>

Somebody asked for a sort of cheat-sheet for Pokemon info. A quick one is 'Bulbapedia'. ... yup. Just Google 'Bulbapedia' and you'll get probably the single most comprehensive bunch of information on Pokemon and related articles on the 'net. Easy, huh?

Pokemon Name: Suicune. Type: Water. Stage: Basic (Legendary). Appearance: When Harry was fighting the Hungarian Horntail dragon for his first task, his first instinct was to summon a Patronus that could distract his opponent, possibly even attacking it. Sensing his needs, the spell conjured a powerful Water-type Pokemon that could fight the Fire-type dragon on even footing. It used a Water-type attack against the dragon's fire, which produced a dense fog, then sensing Harry's desire for further obfuscation used Mist, creating an energized fog that not only obscured visual acuity, but also obscured the entire fog bank from even Magical penetration, preventing all but the most powerful divining spells from working. Professor Moody discovered this when Professor Dumbledore asked him what he could see through it; all that the other judges and Mr. Bagman heard from that was that it was 'magical fog'. This didn't stop Headmasters Karkaroff or Maxime from trying to banish it, but it did stop their attempts from working. During Harry's fight, Suicune used a Hydro Pump in order to protect Harry from a stream of fire, but unfortunately the resulting explosion startled the off-balance dragon, who nearly fell on her eggs; in his startled and panicked state Harry isn't entirely sure what he did to save the eggs from being crushed, but it is known that his attempt made the fog itself glow pink for just a moment or two, and afterwards the dragon had a slightly damaged wing, likely from landing awkwardly on it. The Patronus Suicune then was forgotten, as Harry had opened up dialogue with the dragon and no longer needed protecting.

Pokemon Name: Meowth. Type: Normal. Stage: Basic. Appearance: When Harry was showing off his special Patronus to the Gryffindors after his victory in the First Task, he accidentally cast the spell fully, and this Pokemon was the result. The Scratch-Cat Pokemon then rather lazily curled up in a corner, where several girls began petting and cooing over it. When Neville ate a Canary Cream (courtesy the Weasley Twins) and transformed into a large canary, the Meowth decided to try to 'play' with it, chasing it for a moment before using the special skill Payday, which scattered coins everywhere. Fortunately for the economy, the coins proved only as solid as the Patronus itself, and disappeared once Harry managed to banish it.

And I discovered one I missed!

Pokemon Name: Regirock. Type: Rock. Stage: Basic (Legendary). Appearance: Before Harry had even cast his first fully corporeal Patronus, he had a dream about a tropical forest, within which was a large golden temple. The last thing he saw before being woken up by Ron screaming about Sirius Black in their room, was 'some sort of Hagrid-sized Golem with a mountain for a head'. This was Regirock.

Show of hands, who caught that last one?

Again, everybody has Chisame to thank for me getting this chapter up. Heaven knows I've been too lazy on my own. ***Sweatdrops***

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	17. Disquieting Decisions

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

I promised Chisame I would update tonight, so here it is! ^^;

But first, before the chapter starts, one note. The reason that Snape 'Got away with it' after the choosing of the champions, and that Dumbledore came down on Harry like he did, was because of the situation. Harry, who was underage, had just been called by the cup (twice), despite Dumbledore's assurances that such a thing would not happen. Since it's well known that Dumbledore supports Harry, this alone would make the other Headmasters suspicious (as they were in canon), thus they actually supported Snape's insistent questioning (thus why they didn't interrupt, despite interrupting any answer canon-Harry gave, not believing a word he said). When Harry lashed back at Snape, getting away with it would have been proof to the other Headmasters that Dumbledore didn't discipline him, giving them further belief that Dumbledore was reneging on his word. Dumbledore coming down on Harry when he did was as much a Political move as it was anything else, and actually prevented a lot of headaches in time. As to the severity of the punishment? Not only did they prove that Dumbledore didn't support Harry's lashing out to the other Headmasters (and Snape, renewing the slimy git's loyalty to Dumbledore, if only slightly), but it served as a way of cooling the students as well: the students didn't know that Harry lashed out at Snape as he did, they only saw Harry getting punished after entering in a tournament he was supposed to have been under-aged for. Harry got some time alone, the students got mollified about their (far-too-easily) bruised egos, the Headmasters were assured that Dumbledore, and thus Hogwarts itself, really wasn't behind the breaking of the rule, and Dumbledore got an excuse to keep Harry out of the Forbidden Forest, where the Dragons for the First Task were to be kept. All because Harry was tired and grumpy and lashed out at the wrong moment. Ah, how things turn out.

On a note about Snape: I don't particularly like Severus Snape, but I also don't particularly hate him either. Dislike certainly, but I don't think I need to unneedingly bash him. At the moment, Snape doesn't really know how to deal with Harry (not that anyone else does either), so he's a bit cooler than the cocky, over-bearing git of canon. That doesn't mean he isn't being a git, just that he's being less cocky or over-bearing about it. And as for Harry's treatment in the Potions room, it really is deserved; being colorblind in low-light is a very bad handicap in Potions, where discerning colors and shades is very important. Of course Snape isn't giving him any help with the situation, instead exacerbating it, but one can't really expect Snape to change his opinions on Harry simply because he isn't acting like he used to. (Harry never really acted like Snape thought he 'should', so 'should' doesn't fit; Snape isn't really picky either way.)

Now then, with all that (and then some) cleared up, I'll get on with the story. Enjoy! (And more notes at the bottom, as usual.)

* * *

><p>Chapter 16: Disquieting Decisions<p>

* * *

><p>When Harry returned to classes after his adventure in the Labyrinth, he found that very few people had noticed his absence over the weekend; it wasn't that they were callous or anything, but rather more likely that he had simply been absent frequently enough over the last several months that it no longer bothered them.<p>

Which was perfectly fine by Harry, who was content to be largely forgotten most of the time; he came back on Monday to breakfast, and was welcomed there as though he had never left, though Ron and Hermione expressed their displeasure at not being _told_ that he was going to disappear again.

Herbology was of little note that morning, and even Care of Magical Creatures was hardly worth talking about; the incident with that Skeeter woman was largely forgotten, and the growing size of the Skrewts did little to put Harry off, though the rest of the class kept giving them more and more room as time went on.

Hermione at some point had made her way into the Hogwarts' Kitchens, apparently told how to do so by Fred (or was it George?); there she had found Dobby, whom Harry vaguely recognized as having been present at the Dursleys, and Winky, who was the House Elf that had been fired at the World Cup Riot.

Harry was glad to see them, and Dobby was glad to see him; the other House Elves were all very glad to have company, and went out of their way to make sure that they had full bellies within mere moments of arriving. Winky kept wailing loudly, bereft of purpose ever since she'd been fired and wishing she could die, singing the praises of her former master while complaining about how bad Mr. Bagman was, and about how bad of an elf Dobby was for wanting to be paid. Dobby said that she didn't seem to be adapting well, but personally Harry wondered if perhaps her reaction was the same as for most House Elves, and that it was Dobby who was unusual.

Of course, it was already understood that Dobby was unusual, the question was to _other_ House Elves, and considering that firing one would be cruel in the greatest of degree, Harry supposed that he wasn't likely to have an answer any time soon.

The real shocker though, was when, during Transfiguration class Professor McGonagall made an announcement about something called a 'Yule Ball'.

"Dress robes will be worn, and the ball will begin at eight o'clock Christmas Day, and continue to midnight in the Great Hall. Now then-" she stared intently at the class, as though measuring her students and disciplining them at the same time, "The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to, er, _let our hair down_-" the disapproval in her voice at this was palpable, almost coming off of her in an orange steam that billowed out and up, gathering around her shoulders. Someone giggled, trying to imagine the tightly-controlled Professor McGonagall with her hair down, literally _or_ metaphorically. "But that doesn't mean we'll be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect of Hogwarts students! I will be most displeased if I find any Gryffindor students embarrassing the school in any way!" The bell rang and everyone got their things together at once, making their way out the door in one great rush as Professor McGonagall called, "Mr. Potter! A word if you please."

Harry shrugged off his friends, giving them a look that indicated he would see them afterward, and went to talk to the Professor. "Yes, Professor?"

"Potter, the champions and their partners, traditionally, have the first dance. It's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry squinted in concentration, "Partners? My Patronus?"

"What? No! _Dance_ partners! For the dance!"

"Oh! That's a relief! I'm not sure I could dance with my Patronus..."

McGonagall looked as though she very much wanted to hold her forehead at that point, "Just... make sure you get yourself a partner; you'll be representing the school, so there's no getting out of it."

"Alright."

* * *

><p>"<em>Dance Partner!<em>" Ron gave a sort of shocked look, "Harry, you'll never win! Who would you even ask!?"

Harry shrugged, "I was thinking of asking your sister."

Ron took a step back, as though he'd been slapped, "M-my, Ginny? Why?"

"Well," Harry started, a small smile on his face as one hand floated up, as though offering great wisdom, "We _do_ have a history..."

"Harry, you are _not_ going off and snogging my sister!"

Harry blinked, "What? No, just dancing."

"What!? WHEN!"

"At the Yule Ball. Haven't you been paying attention?"

"No, I mean when have you been going off dancing with Ginny!"

Harry frowned, what was Ron talking about now? "Ron, what are you talking about?"

"You said you were going off dancing with her!" Ron ignored the way everyone around them started whispering.

"When?"

"That's what I want to know!"

Still frowning, Harry tilted his head to the side, "Ron, now _you're_ barmy. I'm telling you I'm thinking of asking her to the ball; I've never danced before in my life."

"But you said!"

"Oh Ron, put a sock in it!" The strong voice of a very small girl interrupted the odd argument as Ginny stalked up to her brother, a sour expression on her face. How dare he ruin her chances with Harry by being an idiot!

"Hey Ginny. Want to be my partner for the Yule Ball?"

Suddenly, as though reminded of exactly how close she was to talking with Harry, Ginny flushed bright red and began stammering again, "Ah, I-I, er, sure! H-harry..."

"Okay great!"

Suddenly Ron decided to be stupid again, "But she's underage!"

"Yeah, but Professor McGonagall said we could invite a younger student if we wished."

"But, but..." Ron looked between Ginny, who was somewhere between glowing with pride, and glowing red with embarrassment, and Harry, who had the look of someone who'd made up his mind and would hear nothing more of it. "You can't be serious..."

"No, I'm Harry."

"Would you knock that off! Harry, this is serious!"

"No, this is an argument. One I'm not sure how got started."

"But, but, my sister!" Ron gestured weakly at his sister, as though trying to find some way of explaining the situation.

Ginny, though, didn't appreciate the gesture, gnashing her teeth as she growled, "What about me, _Ronald?_"

Ron gaped as he looked between the girl, the boy, and the crowd. Finally, as though angry at something, he bowed his head, muttering "Fine."

"Good. Now, chess!" Ron then proceeded to beat Harry, many times, quite viciously... at Wizarding Chess.

* * *

><p>Although Harry had his date for the Yule Ball arranged already, Ron still had to get one for himself. He stressed for quite some time to find the right one, always giving Harry a hard time about it. Harry, though, had put the entire thing out of his mind; and to make it worse on Ron, he had taken to carrying his golden egg around everywhere with him, opening it every so often. The problem with that was that the noise was so horrible that Harry had to hold his hands to his ears and was pretty much helpless in getting it closed until someone did it for him, usually Ron or Hermione.<p>

Harry had tried loads of things to drown out the noise, but since he was beginning to wonder if there might be a hidden compartment inside of it, he kept pulling the pillows, desks, chairs, and other assorted things off of it and getting a face-full of screeches that could blow windows out at a mile away (or so he suspected).

And one day, in an empty classroom somewhere on the second floor, Harry whimpered as he retrieved his egg from Ron again, "This is getting me nowhere! Why can't this thing come with an instruction manual?"

"Or a pair of earmuffs?" said Ron dryly. "Seriously mate, if it hurts so much, why d'you keep trying? Just ask Professor Dumbledore."

"I did. He said there was nothing he could do."

"Well right helpful _he_ is, isn't he?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to the forest; maybe the trees will absorb the noise."

"You can't be serious!"

"No I'm-"

"Harry, stop that; it's annoying."

"Fine. But I'm going; Professor Dumbledore said I was only barred until after the first task, anyway."

"Probably just wanted to keep you from the dragons."

"Yeah... wish they had stuck around. That Horntail really knew how to fight." Harry had a weird grin on his face as he said this, as though reminiscing on old times.

"Harry, you're _really_ barmy. Really, barking mad."

He pouted, "Not barking! Dogs bark!"

Ron rolled his eyes, "Fine, meowing then."

Harry laughed, "That's better!"

"Not by much." But Harry had already left.

* * *

><p>True to Harry's supposition, the trees of the Forbidden Forest did, in fact, absorb some of the noise of the egg, far better than the stone of the castle.<p>

That didn't mean that he could stand it much better, though. "MEW! MEWMEW!"

"AGH! WHO LET LOOSE A BANSHEE!" Harry knocked his head against a tree, eyes shut tight as he rubbed his head, still trying to keep his ears covered. He couldn't actually hear what was being said, but he could, on the periphery, tell that someone was speaking; straining, he opened his eyes to look and saw a male centaur looking sourly down at his egg, which was still open. After staring at it for a moment, the centaur reached down, closed it, and picked it up, stopping the noise.

Slowly, as though expecting the noise to start up again, Harry floated out into the open. The centaur didn't even look at him, "Is this yours?"

Harry nodded, looking at the golden egg, then back up at the centaur, _'Is it really a Banshee?'_

The centaur seemed puzzled, "A Banshee? No. If it was, we'd probably both be dead. Definitely doesn't belong in the forest, though." He looked at the egg, then handed it gently to Harry, calling over his shoulder as he walked off, "Try it by the lake; maybe you'll start some of that lot singing back to you."

Harry looked at the egg, then watched the centaur go.

Finally, he decided. 'The lake? Couldn't hurt.' And with that thought, he darted off.

* * *

><p>The lake, as usual, was placid and calm; not even the giant squid seemed to want to play, and the Durmstrang ship sat motionless in the water, as dark and brooding as ever.<p>

Harry took this in as he floated at the water's edge, staying far clear of the ship and out of sight between bunches of trees growing at the shore.

Finally finding a nice place, where there were plenty of trees to both hide in and drown out the noise, he settled down with his egg, inspecting it again.

In all, it looked about as interesting at the previous hundred times he'd inspected it. It was golden, and had several seams that went all the way around it; there were no hidden compartments or anything of the like beyond what had already been pointed out, but when opened it would emit a horrible shrieking sound unlike anything Harry had ever heard.

He gulped. He had to do it, he knew he did, but he dreaded it just the same. He tried not to be jumpy about it, but it was difficult not to be by that point; the instant he opened the egg he shouted out and threw it away, darting behind a tree to hold his ears even before the sound had really registered in his ears.

The egg gave off a single shriek, then fell to near silence...

Harry blinked, realizing that his ears didn't hurt... then, being the curious kitten he was, he decided to investigate...

The egg, he noticed, had landed in the water, and rather than simply muffling the sound, the water had actually altered it. He couldn't tell from the surface what it sounded like, so he jumped into the water.

After a few moments of listening to it, he closed the egg and floated back to shore, where he dried himself off and transformed back into a human. He didn't notice that a small number of Durmstrang students had noticed him walking away, clutching the egg and looking as though he had solved some great mystery. If he had noticed, it might not have struck him strange that Viktor Krum had later gone to that exact same spot and done pretty much the exact same thing, though this he also did not notice.

* * *

><p>After the last class of term was called over (Antidotes in Potions), Harry had plans to meet with Professor Dumbledore for a very important discussion.<p>

He did not tell his friends what that discussion was, but they also had little reason to worry; Harry had proven to be playful, somewhat thoughtless and irresponsible from time to time over the last year, but this was Professor Dumbledore he was going to see, so Ron merely suggested that Harry was going to talk to the older man about the egg, and that was it.

Ron and Hermione had their own difficulties to contend with. Although she had discovered a helpful face in the kitchens, Hermione was making no headway whatsoever in her recruiting drive for S.P.E.W.

Well, that wasn't wholly honest; Dobby had said that if she could find another House Elf who enjoyed getting paid, or _any_ elf that wanted vacation, that he would consider joining Spoon, which is what he for one reason or another insisted on calling it. This nickname Ron suggested would actually make it more appealing to House Elves, a suggestion that caused Hermione to stop speaking to him for a few hours.

Ron on the other hand, had decided to try to finish his Animagus transformation on his own time, and was making no more progress than before; so he decided to try something he'd never thought of before, for anything, at any time, or for any reason: He began researching. Which was, as his brothers were quick to joke, both a complete turnaround for him, and a 'right quick way to make Prefect next year!'

Although his brothers' joking made him sour-faced for a bit, his research went on. He researched lions, magical lions (including Manticores, which meant he got a three-hour lecture from Harry, who had read quite a bit on the subject), cats, magical cats, fictional and mythical cats of both varieties, and animals with a fire-themed nature, because he had 'a feeling'.

So, when Harry announced to them that he would be seeing Professor Dumbledore and didn't know when he would be back, both of his friends had merely accepted his explanation and gone on to doing their own things, and it was those 'things' that they were still doing when Harry came back to the common room, meaning that Hermione was in the library researching House Elves, and Ron was in the common room, researching an odd little cat that would sometimes breathe fire as a result of eating a certain species of magical bird.

Ron merely looked up, saw Harry looking as though he had run head-long into a tree while rabid monkeys tore at his hair, and, with wide eyes, commented, "Huh, guess he said 'no'." Harry either didn't hear him, or ignored him, merely making his way up the stairs to their shared dorm. He was later found asleep with the egg clutched in his arms.

* * *

><p>While Ron had managed to distract himself with studying, that could really only last just so long; he did, eventually, have to start thinking about finding a girl to go to the dance with. He had successfully put it off long enough that by the time he finally felt pressured enough to try working on it he had only three days left, and by that time most girls already had dates.<p>

He'd already asked one girl, of course, but by his story Fleur had merely looked at him like dirt and he'd run off, not even sure why he'd asked her, Harry's response being "Maybe she cast a spell on you like she did that dragon."

"Yeah, but she was talking to Cedric Diggory..."

"Well, maybe she missed _him_ and hit you?"

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe."

But three days before Christmas, this all still left him without a date, and with very little hope for getting one. "Alright Harry, this is it. I'm going to go out there, and when I come back I'm going to have a date, alright?"

Harry smiled, "Want me to come with you?" Ron gulped.

"No. No, I think I have to do this alone." His face became very grim, as though he thought he were going into a war zone.

"Well, good luck, then."

"Thanks." And with that Ron gulped again, turned around, and hesitantly made his way to the common room door, where he nearly ran face-first into Hermione, "Hermione!"

"Sorry Ron, didn't see you there-"

"Wait, Hermione, you're a girl."

"Flattered you've noticed, Ron." She didn't sound very flattered, though.

"Right, well, would you go to the ball with me?"

"Oh! Sorry, Ron, I'm already going with someone."

"What?"

"Mmhmm."

"Who?"

"Sorry, you'll have to find out at the ball." There was a moment of silence, then Ron spoke again, this time sounding amused.

"Oh I get it, good one Hermione. So d'you want to go to the Ball with me?"

"What? Ron I just told you I'm already going with someone!" She now sounded a bit upset.

"What, you're serious? With who?"

"I told you, you'll find out at the ball. Now if you'll excuse me." Hermione promptly turned around and made her way up to the girls' dorms.

Ron blinked dumbly, then ascended once more, ignoring the Fat Lady's complaints, "Harry, what just happened?"

"I think Hermione already has a date. Just you left now."

"Harry that's cruel."

"True though."

"Fine, I'm going." He stopped when he turned around, "Harry," he called over his shoulder, sounding grim, "If I don't make it back..."

"I'll split up all your stuff with the others."

Ron laughed, "Don't you dare." He stopped, thinking, "On second thought, go ahead and take that dress robe mum stuck in my stuff. It's horrible." Harry laughed, and that seemed to make Ron feel a little bit better as he finally made his way out, the Fat Lady sounding angry as she finally closed.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand it." Harry paced a bit as he looked at the golden egg, which was currently nestled in a small pile of toilet paper... to keep it from rolling away on the stone floor, "I just don't understand it. I've figured out how to listen to it, but I don't understand what it <em>means<em>."

"Well, have you asked that bushy-headed _girlfriend_ of yours?" The source of this voice was a semi-amused-looking female ghost, who was currently floating in a position that made it look like she was sitting on a toilet, which was appropriate since that was where she was floating, "She seemed smart, _she_ could probably figure it out."

"Maybe." Harry looked tilt-ways at the egg, but was stopped from saying anything else when he heard someone's hand on the door to the girls' restroom; without any hesitation he suddenly transformed into Flash and went to curl protectively around his egg, hiding in a corner and showing only his back to the room.

"Hello? Myrtle? Are you in here?" Myrtle grinned and floated into her toilet, quite literally into the water of the bowl; she didn't feel like complaining about things at the moment. "I'll be quick, then."

The girl, as it turned out, did not have business with the toilets, but merely with the sinks, "I can't believe her, what sort of trick did she think she was pulling? Augh, it's in my hair!" It was a Slytherin girl in the year ahead of Harry, if he recognized her voice correctly, "That girl is going to _get_ it! One of these days..." She turned one of the sinks on so that the water was running, and apparently, stuck her head beneath the running water.

"Ooooh! Who got you with... heehee, what sort of hex did _that_!?"

"Bugger off, _ghost_."

"Oh come on, you can tell me, it's not like anyone ever comes and talks to _me!_ Who would I tell?"

The girl was silent for a moment, the sound of running water going on undisturbed, "It was a little Gryffindor girl. Said she was going to the Ball with Harry Potter."

Myrtle grinned as she noticed Flash twitch, "Oh reeeeaaalllyyy?" Her grin widened greatly, "_He_ managed to find someone so quickly, did he?"

The girl snorted, "Not like it would've been hard; would've asked him myself. Still might. Isn't exactly short of _willing_ girls; figure he might at least like a partner more _appropriate_ to his station."

Myrtle rolled her eyes, grinning Flash's way once more, "Don't count on it."

"Yes, well, you're probably right. Those Gryffindors have poisoned his mind completely by now, haven't they." Both ghost and animal felt their heckles rise at that, "If he had gone to Slytherin I bet he'd have been right by Draco, top of the food chain; instead he's been acting like some sort of five year old. Oh well, no use crying over spilt milk and all that." She dunked her head beneath the water again and came back up, whispering _"Scourgify."_ and stepping back. Then she seemed to notice something, "Oh! What's this?"

Flash heard her feet approaching his position and flicked an ear her way, "Oh! You're cute, what might you be?" Flash picked his head up and looked back, seeing her looking straight down at him with that sort of smile girls always seem to get when they see something cute; she was definitely an older Slytherin, but he couldn't rightly place her name. "What've you got there? Is that a golden egg?" She giggled, "Going to protect it like a dragon, are you? C'mon, that's not yours." Suddenly she reached down to grab the egg, but at the last second her hand was thrown forcefully back as a bright pink bubble popped into existence around a now-frowning Flash, who was looking up at her with unhappy, glowing pink eyes.

Myrtle laughed, "I think that's him telling you to bugger off; I don't think he likes you."

"What? Well it doesn't matter, that egg belongs to one of the Champions, he can't have it!" She pulled out her wand, probably to try a spell, but for some reason she couldn't get it to aim right, "What? What's going on? Myrtle, are you doing this?"

"I'm right here." Myrtle had a coy sort of smile on her face, "I _told_ you, you'd best get along."

The girl fought with her wand for a bit longer, but finally seemed to give up, "I'll be telling the Headmaster about this." She then stormed away.

When she was finally gone, Myrtle turned back to Flash, "You'd probably better go, Harry."

Flash nodded, then picked up his egg, transformed into a human, and thanked the ghost-girl, "Thanks Myrtle. Talk to you later."

"Anytime, Harry."

* * *

><p>On the morning of Christmas Eve Harry cornered Ron, who looked as though he hadn't gotten much sleep, and asked him the question that had likely been bugging the both of them since the night before, "Well, did you find a date, Ron?"<p>

Ron nodded, "Yeah."

"Oh? Well good! I was afraid you'd choke for a moment there." Ron snorted in a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"Still might."

Dean spoke up, "Are you really taking Ron's sister then, Harry?"

"Absolutely. Loads better than some Slytherin; I don't _care_ what my station is!" The other boys seemed confused about this, though Neville was the one to finally speak their mind.

"I'm not sure I want to know."

"So, what're we going to do with ourselves today? Right boring if we all sat in here and talked about tomorrow."

"Yeah... wait, do you hear something?" Harry strained his ears as he stared at the door to their room.

"I don't hear anything-"

"It sounds like... singing?"

"Oh dear lord, it's my brothers, I just know it."

Harry didn't get to respond, though, as the door to their dorm suddenly burst in and admitted both twins, who were each singing off-key renditions of different songs, along with Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet; they all seemed to be enjoying themselves, though Ron's flaming-red face interrupted the scene, "WHAT are you DOING?"

"Why, singing Christmas Carols, dear brother!" Fred took care of the explanations as George suggested he, Lee, and Alicia start off with 'Jingle Bells' together, though it didn't stay 'together' for very long.

"But it's not even Christmas yet!"

"So? Never too early to get into the spirit, we say!"

Alicia stopped singing long enough to give Ron a smile, "C'mon, join in! It's fun! All of you!"

Ron spluttered while Harry stood up, a grin on his face, "I don't know any of the words, though..."

"T's alright! Just make 'em up!"

"Harry you can't be serious-"

"Why not, better than standing around waiting for tomorrow."

Finally Ron hung his head, "Why can't anyone around here be _normal_?"

Seamus patted Ron's back, "Normal is overrated, mate."

"So you're going with them too?"

"Nah, think I'll just watch. Besides, I'm kind of hungry." After a short discussion with the off-key carolers, Harry started in on a rendition of 'Jingle Bells' that began with "Jingle Bells! Malfoy Smells! Dragon laid an egg!"

"Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Bet they've got something good this morning, since it's Christmas Eve."

"Coming Neville?"

"Yeah, I'm coming, just want to get changed first."

"Well of course."

"Come to think of it, Harry, why _are_ you dressed?"

Harry stopped his singing of "Dashing 'cross the lake" to smile, "Well, I'm The Boy Who Never Sleeps, remember?"

"Right, of course." Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out his robe for the day, "Well good luck with your, er, _singing_." He rolled his eyes as the group of five sauntered off, singing together in several off-key versions of a song that Harry had honestly never even heard of, but still managed to make up lyrics for, largely revolving around squishing spiders.

When they were gone Seamus turned to Ron, "Ron, is it just me or is Harry turning into one of your brothers?"

"Well so long as he doesn't change himself into Percy I'll be alright." Ron smirked when the other three all agreed with him at the same instant. It would seem that Percy had had an effect on _all_ of them.

* * *

><p>Although Hermione, and even Ginny were a bit sour-faced about his caroling, Harry still stuck with it until the Twins got bored and decided to find something else, some other tradition to either make fun of or play with in good spirits. For a while they dared other Gryffindors to chug an entire flagon of Egg-Nogg in one go, and though only Neville actually managed it it still provided a couple hours of fun entertainment as nearly every male Gryffindor tried at least once, Harry being disqualified for choking on it from the taste. A few girls tried it as well, though there were much fewer of those, especially after Lee Jordan managed to get halfway through before George made a face that made him laugh, causing him to spray half the Common Room with a mist of the stuff, sending him into coughing fits as several girls complained about the mess getting all over them.<p>

Later in the day things had calmed down quite a bit, with Fred finally admitting that he and George figured everyone would be too busy talking about the Yule Ball come Christmas to partake in much merry-making, thus why they'd done it the day before; Harry agreed that it made sense, though Fred made him promise not to tell that to anyone.

That night, after everyone had gone to sleep fitfully in their beds, Harry hung around until he was alone and then made his way out of the tower, the Fat Lady making a fuss about something Harry didn't catch, and transformed before making his way out to the Forest, which was as covered in snow as the Grounds were.

To the creatures of the forest, Christmas was merely another day in mid-winter, and most of them preferred to keep to themselves; merry-making in the castle had nothing to do with the fact that it was well below freezing out among the trees. Even the Centaurs, who _did_ recognize Christmas as being a holiday worth noting, spent most of their time in a clearing standing silently around a bonfire, reverent but not exuberant.

Although the actual striking of Midnight meant little to Flash, he still didn't have the gumption that night to do much patrolling; he went around through the forest, checking that everything was in place, then sort of hung out in a tree near where the Centaurs were holding their bonfire ceremonies.

Eventually he tired, and figuring that he should wake early retired to bed, ignoring the Fat Lady's drunken, sleep-laced babbling at the door.

* * *

><p>When he woke the next morning, it was to the sound of a soft <em>pop<em> as a House Elf Apparated to his bedside. When he opened his eyes, he saw "Dobby?"

"Oh! Good morning, Harry Potter, sir, and Merry Christmas!"

Harry smiled, "Good morning and Merry Christmas to you, too, Dobby."

Dobby did some sort of excited dance involving touching his nose lightly as he tried to fend off his own nerves, "Dobby is having a present for Harry Potter! Dobby is wishing to give it to Harry Potter!"

A yawn erupted from one of the other beds, "Morning already?"

Ron rolled over with a tired expression, looking oddly at Dobby, "Is that a House Elf?"

"Yeah, didn't mean to wake you. You can go back to bed if you want."

"Nah, presents." Seamus rolled himself off his bed to stand over a pile of presents laid out at the foot of his bed.

Harry stretched himself out and edged toward the end of his bed, where he saw a pile of presents for himself, Ron watching Dobby move alongside him, "Hey Harry, what's he want?"

"He wanted to give me a present, I think." Harry sat down on the edge of his bed and turned his full attention to Dobby, "I suppose I'll open yours first, then."

Dobby did a sort of excited little hop, holding his hands to his chest as he danced in place for a moment, "Harry Potter is a great Wizard! Harry Potter gives lowly Dobby first pick! Dobby is so humbled!" Harry smiled, allowing the House Elf his moment before Dobby reached into his... 'outfit' to hand Harry a small package, which Harry opened quickly.

It was a pair of socks; one red with a pattern of broomsticks, the other green with golden snitches. "Wow, Dobby, thanks."

"Dobby is making them himself, sir! With wool bought from his wages!"

Harry grinned, "A home-made gift is very special, Dobby." Dobby's response was to nearly faint from the praise as Harry reached into his trunk and pulled out a pair of socks; perfectly clean, one might think that the light-blue pair hadn't been worn in ages, or at all for that matter. "Sorry I didn't wrap them, but they should fit you fine."

Dobby, though, only shook in joy as his already large eyes widened until it seemed as though they might pop out of his face, "Oooh, Harry Potter is getting Dobby socks? Socks is Dobby's favorite clothes, sir! Very favorite ones, sir!" As soon as they were in Dobby's hands, he pulled off his previous pair, a purple one and a pink one, and pulled the light blue ones over his feet; just as Harry supposed, they fit him... _almost_ well, reaching up to his knees and only bunching a little bit around his ankles. Dobby's eyes glittered with tears, then widened slightly, "Oh! But they is making a mistake at the shop, Harry Potter! They is giving you two the same!"

Ron laughed, "Ah, Harry, how didn't you spot that?" Ron then pulled out a pair of socks that he'd just unwrapped, a violet pair, and tossed them to Dobby, "Here, you can have these and mix them up properly. And here, have this as well." Ron took the jumper that his mother had sent him and gave it to the elf, who looked as though he might explode into tears with his joy.

"Oh thank you, thank you sir! Dobby knew that sir was a great wizard, for he is a friend of Harry Potter, but he is a greater wizard than Dobby could ever have known! For Dobby did not know that he is kind of spirit, as noble, as selfless-"

"They're just socks..." Ron pinked a bit around the ears as he took in the praise, though he looked pleased just the same. His expression changed, though, when he opened his next present, pulling out a large yellow Chudley Cannons hat, "Wow, cool!" He immediately jammed it onto his head, where it clashed horribly with his bright red hair, "Thanks, Harry!"

"Dobby must be going now, Sir! We is already making the Christmas Feast in the kitchens, sir!" Dobby then hurried out of the dormitory, waving to the others as he passed.

Once Dobby was gone Harry went through the rest of his presents; from the Dursleys he got a box of tissues, though for what purpose he couldn't tell, as they hadn't even sent a note; Hermione had given him a book entitled _Magical Creatures of Britain and Ireland_, which Harry couldn't help but to flip through before moving on; Ron had sent him a large bag of dungbombs, Sirius a handy penknife with attachments to untie any knot and open any lock, Hagrid had sent him a bunch of all his favorite sweets, while Mrs. Weasley had sent him the usual package of a hand-made sweater with a picture of a dragon on it and a bunch of mince pies.

Once everyone's presents had been opened they all made their way to breakfast where, true to Fred and George's predictions, roughly half the Great Hall, largely the female half, was already seemingly preoccupied with the upcoming Ball. Every few moments he would catch a snippet of conversation about formal robes, hairstyles, who was going with who, questions on what would be done to decorate the castle for the Ball, and whatever-else anybody could think of.

Between Breakfast and Lunch everyone spent their time in their respective Common Rooms, chatting and enjoying their presents, and after lunch many of them went outside and had quite a good time playing in the snow, though Hermione left early to get ready for the Ball, still mum on with whom she would be going.

Eventually Ron and the others called their frolicking to an end, claiming they couldn't see where they were aiming, so everyone went back indoors to get ready for the Ball.

Ron had a bit of trouble with his formal robe, which was really simply too frilly and purple, so he cut off the cuffs; it helped, but left a sort of ragged edge that still didn't look very good. "Do you know any spells that will change its color?"

Ron shook his head, "No. Besides, it probably wouldn't last all night, anyway." Harry merely shrugged.

Once he was ready Harry met Ginny in the Common Room, then the two of them walked to the Great Hall, Neville escorting Parvati Patil shortly behind them, while Ron walked alone, apparently going with Parvati's sister Padma, who being a Ravenclaw was apparently meeting him just outside the Entrance Hall.

Ginny didn't say much as they walked, and then waited, seeming preoccupied with something that either amused her or made her happy. What that might be Harry didn't know, but he was inspecting the decorations already, so didn't mind the quiet.

"You look good." Ron said this to Padma in a sort of embarrassed, yet distracted way, as though he felt obligated to do so.

"Thanks." Padma took the compliment as it was given, out of obligation, already frowning at the way Ron kept looking around the crowd, as though looking for someone else.

"How long do you suppose they'll keep us out here?" Harry turned to notice Ginny speak for the first time.

"Don't know-"

"Champions over here, please!" Harry turned as he noticed Professor McGonagall calling over the crowd.

"Not long, I guess." Ginny nodded as she allowed Harry to guide her to where McGonagall was currently standing. Once there she explained that the Champions were to stand outside the doors, and would move in procession once all the other students had been seated.

Fleur Delacour and a boy Harry didn't recognize were closest to the door; she in sparkling silver, he in a sort of understated dark green, his eyes never left her, as though he couldn't believe his good fortune of having the chance to be going with such a beauty as Fleur Delacour. Harry and Ginny were next in line, Harry in black robes with green trim, which Mrs. Weasley had said matched his eyes, while Ginny was in a set of soft-red robes that looked as though they might have fit Ron better, expertly sized to her frame with glistening trim stuck to it in lines, seeming to reflect light much like the fake icing on the decorated walls.

Viktor Krum took up a place behind them; slightly duck-footed as always, he ambled to his place with Hermione in tow.

Harry very nearly passed over this little fact, almost losing interest the moment he'd noticed it, but did a double-take at the last second, "Hermione?" It was almost enough to make him disbelieve his eyes; was that girl truly Hermione? Of course it was, but she looked different from how she normally did; her hair, rather than being frizzy and bushy, was now sleek and shiny, held very tightly to her head with an elegant bun in the back. She wore a gown of an airy, light-blue material that sparkled in the light, and held herself in a confident, proud posture, a close-mouthed smile on her face that made her seem all the more powerful, as though she could be expected to start handing out orders at any moment.

"Hello, Harry." Hermione nodded graciously, not straying far from her escort as she handily ignored, or perhaps reveled in everyone gawking openly at her.

"Wow." Even Ginny was breathless, though for some reason Harry got a sudden flash of Professor McGonagall, much younger and without that ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat. He couldn't help but to agree with himself that it seemed an apt comparison, though himself also wondered if it might, perhaps, be a bad idea to mention it to Hermione; he again agreed with himself, then made another agreement with himself to not bring the subject up again that night, as he had other, better things to be thinking about.

"You look pretty good, I almost didn't recognize you."

Hermione took the praise, then grinned impishly, "It took forever to get my hair down like this."

"And that's why you left early." Hermione nodded.

Eventually everyone else was settled into the Great Hall and Professor McGonagall ushered the Champions inside. Everyone clapped and applauded as they entered, walking up to a big, round table where all the judges were seated. Dumbledore clapped happily as they approached, while Karkaroff seemed to have eaten something that didn't agree with him; Madame Maxime seeming distracted by her own charge, a prideful look in her eye.

Less pleasant than even Karkaroff, however, was Percy, who seemed to have taken the place for Mr. Crouch. When they finally got close enough Percy drew out the chair beside him, looking pointedly at Harry, who took the hint and sat down.

"I've been promoted." Percy's grin as he made this statement spoke volumes about how proud he was of this fact. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."

"I see."

"Poor man. Overworked, he is; hasn't had a break since the World Cup. You wouldn't believe the sort of fiasco that became, it was bad enough arranging it, I tell you, then with everything that's happened since. That horrible Skeeter woman has been buzzing around since, and then of course there was his own personal shock with the misbehavior of that House Elf of his, Blinky or whatever it was-"

"Winky."

"What?"

"Her name is Winky. She's working here, now."

"Is that so? Well let's just hope Dumbledore can keep her in line, then." The expression on Percy's face as he said this made Harry wonder whether Percy thought Dumbledore _could_ keep a misbehaving House Elf under control. "Now then, where was I? Oh yes, I suppose you've heard he fired her, then."

Harry laughed, interrupting again, "I was there when Mr. Weasley, er, he told us about that." Harry suddenly couldn't keep the question out of his mind as to whether Percy had been present for that moment. He couldn't recall, but then, Percy had a tendency to disappear any time his mouth wasn't open.

"Yes, well. He needs looking after, at home you know, not as young as he used to be, and without a House Elf he can't relax as well as he used to, even when out of the office. Heavens no, he's taking a nice, quiet Christmas. Deserves nothing less, I say. I'm just glad he knew he had someone he could count on to fill in for him."

Harry 'Hmm'd his understanding, but otherwise said nothing, instead turning his attention to his plate, which was still empty. In fact, none of the plates in the Great Hall had filled themselves yet, and Harry was beginning to wonder what was wrong; had Peeves destroyed the Kitchen again?

"Pork chops!" Harry's attention was drawn to Professor Dumbledore, who had spoken these two words directly into his plate, followed by his order suddenly appearing neatly in front of him.

The rest of the table took the hint and started ordering in kind; after a few moments of watching this Harry considered what he wanted, then smiled, telling his plate that he wanted "Turkey and yams, with Pumpkin juice!" Ginny gave him an odd look, as though to say 'Yams?' but said nothing as she ordered her own dish, a simple holiday ham with mashed potatoes.

Harry looked at Hermione, who was talking animatedly with Krum, and was personally glad that she had apparently decided to give SPEW a rest.

Deciding he wasn't very interested in what everybody else was talking about, Harry entertained himself with his meal; the meat was wonderful and succulent, the yams were sweet, and the pumpkin juice was delicious as usual.

"Igor, all this secrecy..." Dumbledore's eyes shone as his voice caught Harry's attention, "One would think you didn't want visitors."

"Well, Dumbledore," Karkaroff's eyes grew slightly colder, though he did hazard a yellow smile, "we are all protective of our private domains. Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning with which we have been entrusted? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our schools' secrets, and right to keep them?"

"Oh I wouldn't dare to assume I know all of Hogwarts' secrets. Why, only this morning I took a wrong turn looking for a restroom, and to my astonishment found a room that I had never seen before, with the most impressive collection of chamberpots I'd ever seen. When I returned to investigate, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Perhaps it only shows up early in the morning, or perhaps when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder." Ginny stifled a giggle, and Harry had to admit he was amused as well, though Percy didn't seem to appreciate the humor.

Talk continued and Harry did his best to tune most of it out. Eventually meal-time wound to a close and everyone was encouraged to stand, when the tables were pulled magically to the edges of the room, leaving a wide open space in the middle, where the champions were encouraged to go out and prepare to dance.

The band doing the music was called the 'Weird Sisters', and Harry allowed that they looked a bit 'weird' with wild hair, torn costumes, and frankly frightening make-up. They started off with a slow song, and Harry, Fleur, and Krum took their partners and started in an equally slow dance.

Everyone applauded, and the Yule Ball had gotten under way.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 16<p>

* * *

><p>This is the most difficult chapter I've written so far; the Yule Ball, while interesting and kind of fun to read, is a nightmare to write in my opinion. Though that may just be me; the thing I spent the most time stressing over was Ginny's choice of meal. That took... a long time do decide. It took more time to decide what Ginny was going to eat than it took to write most of the chapter, which was kind of annoying.<p>

Hopefully, the next chapter will be a bit easier.

Guess what! I have pictures for Harry Mewter. Check my author profile, there's a few links there. =3 A couple chapters ago one of my readers sent me a message saying she made a picture, and I was so excited I put a link in my profile. And a lot longer ago, another reviewer said I should make a picture of Harry Mewter, so I did. ^^ Thanks Jewl4Life! And to that other nice person who mentioned fanart, my e-mail is currently locked up on me, but I'll be checking it (eventually), so I haven't forgotten about you. ^^;

A couple reviewers pointed out that in the previous chapter I described the dragon that Harry fought as being the Norwegian Ridgeback; this was incorrect, it was actually the Hungarian Horntail, and I corrected this, so it should be right now.

Another reviewer mentioned the glowing chamber, and I'd like to pop a party ball about that. They noticed something important! And I'm glad. I won't tell you why or how, but that place is important. Harry will go there a few more times, but it won't be mentioned other than possibly in passing until its importance comes back. Kind of like the flower; until its day comes, it's just an elephant in the corner.

And another thing, about Ron's Pokemagus. I'm really holding myself back from saying too much about it, but if you're _reeeealy_ wanting to know what he's missing, look up Entei. If you can't figure it out from that hint, I'm not going to tell you. xD

And finally, one last note, about Ron, Harry, and Hermione all being Pokemon when no-one else is. This is important! A sharp-eyed reader would note that no-one else is turning into Pokemon, despite the seeming relative impunity with which all three of them did exactly that. An even sharper-eyed reader would note that I've actually already explained this (or at least strongly alluded to it). I don't think I'll say it out loud here, since I'd first like to see if anyone can come up with the right answer in a review. If you can, you'd get a mention and a Pretend Cyber Cookie! It's made of air and exists as an empty reward, so it's really tasty! So get thinking!

Haha, sometimes I wonder at just how stupid I get about this stuff. Either way, if somebody gets it or not, I'll just come out and say it after the end of the next chapter. I don't feel bad about it since, in my mind at least, I've already revealed it, so it's not like I'm revealing a future plot point.

Alex Ultra: From Normal to Nottingham

LATER


	18. Disappear In Bubbling Murk

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

Pokemon: Gyarados(1)

Pokemon: Vaporeon(2)

Note: I'm very sorry this took so long; this chapter's actually been finished for a while, but I either kept forgetting to upload it, or just couldn't be bothered. It doesn't help that writing has gotten much harder over the last few years. Gomen.

* * *

><p>Chapter 17: Disappear In Bubbling Murk<p>

* * *

><p>The tables had been sent away, lights dimmed, and the Weird Sisters had struck up a low, slow tune... but it remained that Harry did not know how to dance. So when he, his partner, the other champions and their partners went out to the floor to begin their dance, he honestly had no clue as to what to do.<p>

However, he fancied himself a quick learner, and decided that he would watch the others and try to mimic them. And this is what he did. It worked... until Roger Davies, eyes locked in a sort of daze, bumped rather oddly against Fleur's shoulder, and Harry mimicked this, receiving a complaint from Ginny. Watching Viktor Krum was even worse, though, since his wide, duck-feet would periodically either cause him to trip, or step on Hermione's feet.

Harry only mimicked the others for just long enough for him to get a feeling of what was expected of him; in that time, all three schools were rather embarrassed at the dancing performance of their Champions; by the end of it Krum was still stepping on Hermione's feet, Fleur was still dealing with a half-there Roger, and Harry had finally learned most of what was expected of him, but was still watching the only ones on the floor currently displaying the male role of the dance.

Finally, mercifully, the first dance was called, and other students started joining them on the floor, giving Harry more choice as to whom to watch and learn from, improving his performance considerably.

The Weird Sisters changed the song, and in response the dance style changed, giving Harry something new to learn. This repeated multiple times, and Harry took the challenge so vigorously that after a while he had to change partners; Ginny had been worn to the bone, and Padma Patil came out to replace her, Ginny going to berate her brother for being dense, not taking his date for even one dance.

Eventually even Padma started getting tired, but Harry wasn't short for partners, several partner-less girls gathering off in a sort of halo around the floor, ready for the moment when Padma would excuse herself, and they would go in to try to snatch the boy for themselves.

Alas, that was not meant to happen, as Ron, sick of listening to his brother prattle on about flying carpets, had come up to bid for Harry to go outside with him "For some fresh air."

Though the girls were disappointed, Harry agreed, so the two of them went outside.

Outside the front doors were gardens of roses filled with glowing Fairies that would dart around from time to time, talking about what was going on around them; apparently, they rather enjoyed being around Hogwarts. Further along were winding paths of normal bushes and, to Harry's chagrin, Severus Snape and Igor Karkaroff, who were having a conversation that Harry didn't care to listen to, and thus led Ron away.

As they walked, Harry found himself growing more and more curious. Not about what was in front of him, but behind: The Fairies. He knew they existed, and that they were small and all, but he'd never seen them before, and was rather curious over them.

He found an excuse: A pair of older students had been found among the bushes and told to leave, and he and Ron had ducked behind other bushes to avoid being seen; since the two of them hadn't been exactly beside each-other when they'd ducked, Harry transformed without even Ron seeing him do so.

Once transformed into Flash he made his way back to the rosebushes, poking his nose around curiously while the Fairies treated him similarly, keeping their distance yet watching him with bright, curious eyes; every once in a while they would ask each-other something about him, and just as he was thinking about turning into one himself he caught a whiff of something familiar that caught his attention.

Pulling his face out of the thorny bush, Flash looked down-range, then followed his nose toward where he thought the smell seemed to be coming from. There were bushes, low lighting, statues, and not far away he noticed Hagrid sitting with that large woman from Beauxbatons; trotting along still following his nose, he found the source of the smell to the side of a statue: From the ground he spotted a beetle of some kind sitting atop a statue, so he settled on his haunches and jumped, pouncing on it.

It was quick, though, and got out of the way just before he actually landed on it. Not to be denied, he settled again and pounced again; this time the beetle gave up on landing and simply flew away, Harry chasing along behind it. They went for a few dozen yards or so before the beetle dove behind a bush around a corner; Harry followed it, but instead of a beetle, he found a woman in shiny green robes, "Bugger off you nasty little beast!"

Harry jumped back when the woman tried to kick him. He recognized her: Rita Skeeter, the woman with the spelled quill. His ear flicked, and he watched her curiously as she cursed and grumped a bit more.

Behind him he noted small, angry sounds as, to his confusion, that large headmistress from Beauxbatons went storming back into the school through the rosebushes; Skeeter seemed especially keen on this as well, but something prevented her from following after. With one last angry, contemplative look down at Flash, she decided to simply leave, hushed voice complaining about 'ruddy animals'.

'Huh, she smelled like Wormtail...' Flash watched her go with tilted face until Ron, looking rather sour himself, came after him.

"Harry? What're you doing all the way over here?"

Harry looked up at the boy and told him '_I saw Rita Skeeter. She smelled like Wormtail..._'

"Great, Harry, remind me of _that_."

'_Sorry._'

"Anyway change back into a human, I've got something to tell you." Harry did so and Ron closed in, nervously looking over his shoulder, "Harry..."

Right at that moment, however, Hagrid came pounding by, following the path that Madame Maxime had created through the Rosebushes and looking rather a lot like he might've been crying when he noticed Ron and Harry standing beside the door, "H'lo."

"Hello Hagrid." Harry waved.

Hagrid twitched, as though he had just thought of something, "You didn'... hear anything, did you?"

Harry blinked, "Hear what?" Hagrid just watched him for a while, a moment during which Harry looked between Hagrid and Ron, feeling as though he were truly missing something.

"Nevermin'. You- you havin' a good nigh'?" Hagrid wiped his face with a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth.

"Oh yeah, it's been great!"

"Good, good. Talk to yeh' later, Harry." And with that Hagrid left, and once he'd done so Ron started again.

"Harry, Hagrid's part giant!"

"Oh? Cool." Harry tilted his head curiously, "Are you sure he isn't _all_ giant?"

"What? No! I mean, he isn't, couldn't be, giants are hundreds of feet tall, but Harry, do you know what this means?"

Harry blinked, "Er... it means... Hagrid's a magical creature?" Which was just fine in Harry's book.

"Harry... c'mon, I'll explain inside." Ron kept looking over his shoulder, as though expecting someone to have an ear in the next rosebush over; which, honestly, Harry wouldn't be too surprised about if that Skeeter woman had decided to make her way back.

Finally they made their way inside and Ron pulled him to a vacant corner, giving Harry a very serious look, "Harry, did you know?"

"Huh? No. Probably could've guessed, though."

"Harry this is serious!"

"I don't get it, why?" Suddenly Ron looked at him as though Harry had just announced he enjoyed rolling in dung.

"Harry... Giants are... they're just vicious. They're like Trolls, destroy everything, if it gets out..."

"Ron, Hagrid's nothing like that."

"I know that, but- blimey, no wonder he keeps it quiet. I always thought he got in the way of an Engorgement Charm as a kid, didn't like talking about it." Harry shrugged.

"That's fine. I think I'm gonna go back and dance; 'ts loads more fun than sitting in the corner discussing Giants." He stood, and made his way back to the dance floor, where he found a partner and began learning the current dance.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, as far as Harry was concerned.

* * *

><p>When Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower some time before morning he sat in front of the painting of the Fat Lady, trying to figure out just what it was she was mumbling; he could figure out that she and her friend had gotten drunk to the point of sickliness, but there was just something that... bothered him about their drunken, and probably hung-over rambling.<p>

The worst part, though, was that they didn't seem inclined to wake up to hear him shouting the password, so he was stuck outside. While that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it meant that the Golden Egg, which was in his dorm, was beyond his reach.

The Fat Lady rolled over, nearly smothering her much skinnier friend, yet neither of them woke. Finally Harry sighed, transformed, and flew off; he wasn't getting in any time soon. So he instead made his way back out to the forest, where he found a nice knot in a tree and slept there, never minding the snow.

* * *

><p>By the time classes had started up again a sort of post-Christmas funk had descended on the school; everyone moved a little slower, and a glow seemed to have left the halls. Harry noticed, Hermione noticed, even Ron noticed, though Peeves the Poltergeist seemed determined to get some liveliness back into things.<p>

The Golden Egg, to Harry's great frustration, remained as mysterious to him as it had been before he'd taken it to the lake; he could hear its words, he just couldn't figure out what they might _mean_, and so he was stuck. More than that, Hermione had actually refused to help him.

"If I helped you, then I'd need to help Viktor as well, wouldn't I?"

It had gotten to the point that Harry had taken the egg to the lake, dunked it under the water, and sat beneath the surface for a while listening to it, trying to see if he could figure out what it was saying; just... mulling it over. It didn't seem to help much, though, as the harder he thought about it, the more mysterious it seemed.

Care of Magical Creatures class hadn't changed much; the Blast-Ended Skrewts might have gotten a little bit larger, but Harry and Hagrid kept them muscled in place as the other students tended to them. Ron would give the both of them odd looks from time to time, but at the same time he seemed fascinated by the Skrewts for some reason; he kept gazing at them for slightly longer than was absolutely necessary, though he was just as glad as Hermione to get away from them once class was over with.

"Honestly, Harry," Ron rubbed his arm, where one of the now very large Skrewts had blasted him with a fiery expulsion, "If I didn't know better I'd say you were part Dwarf, muscling those things around."

Harry shrugged with a smile, "I'm a lot stronger than I look, Ron. I'd need to be, to intimidate Aragog, right?" Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron shivered.

At some point in January the Daily Prophet ran a story penned by Rita Skeeter entitled 'Danger at Hogwarts'. It seemed to revolve around the Care of Magical Creatures class, mentioning that the Skrewts were, in fact, dangerous and illegal crosses between two different magical creatures, Manticores and Fire Crabs.

_It didn't seem to have done any good, however, as these creatures, descended from two very powerful and dangerous progenitors, are said to be easily wrestled to the ground on a daily basis by a very small Boy Who Lived, despite they being nearly twelve __feet high; their fire, which seems to work from only their back end for some reason, seems similarly impotent, says a boy who recently took a blast straight to the face, "[It feels like] a bad sunburn, maybe."_

_ Others disagree with this sentiment however, "He can't be human, wrestling those things down every day." When inquired as to whom this was in reference, Harry Potter or Rubeus Hagrid, the student laughed and stated "Both."_

_ And the danger didn't start with the Skrewts, according to several students, "Last year our first lesson was on Hippogriffs. I was __nearly mauled by one on my first day."_

_ "I was bitten by a Flobberworm." states another._

_ "Oh yeah [another student] was always being attacked; I think they might have something out for him or something. He couldn't go more than two lessons without being almost attacked. It was kind of funny, really."_

After the article had come out it became the talk of the school for a few minutes, mostly involving students trying to guess who said what. Most thought that it had been Harry to have made the statement about Malfoy being attacked on a near daily basis, so when Neville finally admitted to it everyone got a good laugh, though that only raised the question of just who had been 'bitten' by the toothless Flobberworms.

Hagrid was a little bothered by his Skrewts being called 'dangerous and illegal', but lessons went on largely uninhibited. As did their trip to Hogsmeade, where Harry met up with Ludo Bagman, who gave a very generous, though unneeded offer of help with his egg.

"That's alright, I've already got that figured out. Just need to work out the last bit."

Bagman didn't seem very happy with the response, but was apparently too busy to dig too deeply into it, as he apparently had business with a bunch of goblins that he escorted away, looking as nervous and tense as he ever had and so excitable that he'd forgotten to tell them it was time to go, forcing them to run after him.

Harry left soon after, seeing of all people, Rita Skeeter flouncing around as though in a huff about something. When they saw her Hermione muttered some disparaging remarks about the woman, but then immediately ushered her friends away, as though afraid they might catch something being in her presence.

January passed and a cold snap came over Hogwarts, making birds huddle in their nests and the Centaurs build bigger fires, but Harry paid the cold no mind as he continued to sneak out at night, under the guise of Flash with Golden Egg in arms, spending up to several hours under the surface of the lake trying to puzzle through the clue that it faithfully continued trying to sing to him.

He had long ago chosen a favorite spot, not far from where he'd first made the discovery of the Secret of the Egg, except farther out so that he was nearly forty feet from the surface (and thus far from the nearest spy). The egg was resting on a little ledge that had once belonged to a Grindylow; it had tried to take his egg so he had scared it off by becoming a very large and very dangerous-looking eel-like monster nearly forty feet long with a mouth big enough to swallow the creature whole(1).

Idly he floated near the egg, surrounded in a soft pink bubble as he stared at it, his ears being allowed to poke through the top of the bubble as he listened to the warbling song, which simply continued to loop over and over as he tried to puzzle through it.

The Grindylows stayed well away, but some of the other denizens of the lake would sometimes come by. There were fish, a sort of monster that looked like an animal with seaweed growing out of its every surface, and the Merfolk, who would sometimes swim by while giving curious looks to the Golden Egg and whatever happened to be sitting nearby at the time.

In fact, it was during a patrol when a Merman who had been by multiple times already finally decided to take the egg, "Agh! Lazy humans!" Harry immediately put himself between the Merman and the egg, staring him down. The Merman, slimy-green from the hips up with several missing teeth, clawed hands and mean, yellow eyes, glowed a sort of brown against the light he had brought with him, which proved not up to the task of providing enough light for true color to form. Of course, color or not, the dark, fed-up expression and long spear he was waving around spoke his intentions well enough, and he didn't seem to much like being interfered with when Harry moved to stop him from taking his egg. "What are yeh, a lil' Hydra?" He waved his spear a couple of times, "Be off, 'fore I skewer yeh!"

Harry didn't move, but when the Merman complained about the song being stuck in his head, he looked back at his egg. Something that someone had said was bubbling back up in his mind.

_ "AGH! WHO LET LOOSE A BANSHEE!" Harry knocked his head against a tree, eyes shut tight as he rubbed his head, still trying to keep his ears covered. He couldn't actually hear what was being said, but he could, on the periphery, tell that someone was speaking; straining, he opened his eyes to look and saw a male centaur looking sourly down at his egg, which was still open. After staring at it for a moment, the centaur reached down, closed it, and picked it up, stopping the noise._

_ Slowly, as though expecting the noise to start up again, Harry floated out into the open. The centaur didn't even look at him, "Is this yours?"_

_ Harry nodded, looking at the golden egg, then back up at the centaur, _'Is it really a Banshee?'

_ The centaur seemed puzzled, "A Banshee? No. If it was, we'd probably both be dead. Definitely doesn't belong in the forest, though." He looked at the egg, then handed it gently to Harry, calling over his shoulder as he walked off, "Try it by the lake; maybe you'll start some of that lot singing back to you."_

Harry suddenly had a flash of inspiration, turning back to the Merman who was again coming on him, _'Is it singing?'_

The Merman stopped suddenly, as though surprised that Harry had spoken to him, or perhaps by the method. He didn't relax, but did lower his guard slightly, "What's that?"

_'Is it singing? What's it saying?'_

The Merman looked at him oddly before apparently deciding to humor him, "It's sayin' we'll take yer mos' precious thing, an' yeh only got an hour t'get it back."

_'Really? Why?'_ Harry moved a little closer to the egg, wrapping his tail protectively around it.

"B'cause that's the task! And t's not fer you, anyway, it's fer the Champion! Bloody lazy humans, always throwin' their garbage inteh' the lake. Can' nobody sleep wit this bloody thing goin' off at the top o' its gills."

_'You won't take my egg...'_

The Merman's eyes refocused on him, as though suddenly remembering where he was, "Jus' keep the bloody thing closed. You can deal wit the Champion if 'e finds out yeh got it." In response Harry looked at the egg and used his tail to click it closed.

_'Okay. Thanks for the help.'_

The Merman cocked an eyebrow, "For what?"

_'I couldn't figure it out.'_

"What are you," he said, crooked teeth glinting as he grinned, "A Champion?"

Harry nodded as he picked up his egg, _'Yes.'_ Harry zoomed out of the water, leaving behind a dubious-looking Merman.

The Merman watched him go, silver tail twitching, keeping him in place. 'Is it possible?' He considered for a few moments longer, then shook his head, 'No.'

Another Merman approached a few moments later, "Hey! What're yeh doin' Lazin around?"

"Gettin' rid o' the egg."

"Ah. Can' believe we agreed t' that."

"Yeh'. Lookin' forward to a good night sleep."

The second Merman lightly pushed the first on the shoulder, "Finish yer patrol first."

"A'm goin', A'm goin'."

* * *

><p>The next few weeks were fairly lazy for Harry, at least by his standards. He continued taking the Golden Egg with him everywhere he went, and Ron continued asking him various questions about the things he had read in his <em>Study<em>. When Harry mentioned simply lending the book to him Ron merely shook his head, "No mate, you're better than any book. Besides, you read the whole thing, I'd never come close."

Harry had to agree with that sentiment, but told Ron that he was welcome to look through the _Study_ any time he liked.

Care of Magical Creatures was focusing less on the Skrewts around this time, as they were apparently growing to be too large, and too few number, to make for a proper class. Instead Hagrid had found a bunch of Unicorn foals, telling the class it was "For a nice change o' pace." Though he later confessed to Harry that he simply hadn't been expecting to change lessons and the foals had been all he could find on such short notice.

Outside of classes Harry continued to assist Hagrid with the Skrewts until suddenly one day one of the last three of them turned up dead and Hagrid told Harry that they were too dangerous to keep around any longer, locking them away and forbidding Harry from handling them any more. There was no shortage of other things for him to do, but Harry found the lack of Skrewts to be almost saddening: They put up a good fight.

He helped keep the foals happy and clean, which they seemed to appreciate, and in return they grew close to him, much closer than they did to Hagrid, whom they found to be smelly and somewhat frightening, if nice enough. Much of the rest of Harry's time was spent exploring as usual: He annoyed the Acromantulas, watched the Centaurs, played with a few of the more 'interesting' plants, found several snakes to piss off, explored the labyrinth beneath the school, and fought with a herd of very angry boars that had made their home in the forest despite not being magical.

One morning, just as the sun was beginning to cut between the boughs Harry was surprised to see a Phoenix, of all things, appear in mid-air not far from him in a burst of fire. He was so surprised that he didn't even think about asking any questions before Fawkes sang a song, "_{You're needed by the lake.}_" He stopped for a moment as Harry's ears perked up, recollection apparently coming to him. "_{It's time for the task.}_"

Harry's head snapped to look toward the lake, where he sensed that a large collection of people was starting to gather. _'Thanks, I almost forgot.'_

Fawkes settled on a branch only a few feet away, looking him over. "_{Does the cold not bother you?}_" The Phoenix's song was gentle and warming, like the trilling of Faith and Hope Itself.

Sensing that his companion was curious, and that he had time before he was needed, Harry settled down and shrugged, yawning widely. _'Not really. Not any more. I'm much stronger than I used to be.'_ There was no cheeky grin to accompany this statement, as to Harry it was simple fact.

And that is how Fawkes took it, not even bothering to question the truth of it. "_{The Humans worry for you.}_"

Harry nodded, _'I let them worry. They like it, I think. It makes them feel better.'_

"_{To keep them thinking they know you?}_"

_'They'll understand eventually, but for now I'll let them keep trying to help me.'_

"_{You've changed quite a bit.}_" Fawkes turned his head, eying him, "_{You're no longer human.}_" Harry tilted his own head, wondering where the Phoenix was going with what was turning out to be the longest conversation with him yet. "_{I wonder. Do you even own your Human name now?}_"

Harry flinched back as though struck; he hadn't been expecting that. _'My... name?'_

The Phoenix didn't respond, merely indicating the direction of the lake, "_{You'd best go. Rescue your friend, Flash. He may understand better than you know.}_"

Harry nodded and floated up and toward the lake; he'd barely gotten a few feet before he turned his head back, bright green eyes glass-like and showing remarkable internal conflict. Though the look lasted only a moment, Fawkes could tell that it was important; when Flash turned away to speed to the lake, Fawkes took the opportunity to flame back to Dumbledore's side, where he could watch the youngling's performance.

Noticing the crowds, Flash stopped where he knew he wouldn't be seen and transformed into Harry, then walked out into the open as though nothing was amiss.

"Ah, it looks like we're all here. Thank you, Fawkes." Dumbledore smiled as he gave his familiar a pat on the head, Fawkes singing 'You're welcome.' back to him, causing everyone within audible range short of Dumbledore, the Champions, and surprisingly Percy Weasley to suddenly cringe. Of course since only the Champions and the Judges were actually in range, this meant that Harry could easily name every name who apparently had something to hide.

Noticing Harry's expression Fawkes sang again, "_{Many untrustworthy people here today.}_" The song had no effect on him, but Harry still found it hard to continue meeting the Phoenix's eyes, instead turning to the lake.

"Right, well." Harry heard the sound of Percy Weasley starting off, his normal haughtiness replaced by a palpable, yet much quieter confidence. "Since we're all here, perhaps we should get started." Harry could tell that there was still impatience in his voice, but somehow he sounded much more... withstand-able than normal.

"Yes, ve do not 'ave all day." Madame Maxime had an expression on her face not unlike the one Karkaroff usually wore, while Karkaroff looked especially sour.

"Quite right, come on, you three, let's get you lined up." Ludo Bagman's face made it seem as though he'd lost a bit of his enthusiasm as he lined the Champions up along the shore, ten feet apart; in the background Harry just caught Dumbledore whispering to his familiar.

"Perhaps you should speak softly, friend; the judges don't seem to much care for your song." Harry grinned as he imagined Fawkes' returning look, which he just knew would say, quite clearly 'That's their own fault, isn't it?'

Quickly the three champions were in place, Harry getting a small squeeze from Bagman, and were left alone, Bagman going back to where the judges were.

"_Sonorus._" Harry kept an intent eye on the lake as Bagman started his announcements; when he spoke his voice boomed out across the lake to the stands that had been set up on the opposite side. "Now then, the Champions are all set up, so we'll start the second Task! The champions have one hour to recover what's been taken from them. The task will start on my whistle. Now, Three... Two... _One!_" Bagman blew a single breath into his whistle and all three champions started off.

Harry didn't pay any attention to what the other champions were doing; he had spent so much time in the lake's waters that they were no surprise to him, so he merely marched straight in and dunked himself under. He heard a bit of laughing as he walked out into the water, but once he'd dunked himself completely under the noise drowned away; confident he wouldn't be seen through the dark water, he transformed. All that the judges, or anyone else for that matter, saw was a flash of bright light, and then there was a missing Champion, as though Harry had disappeared entirely.

Harry, however, was very much still there, but not for long as his tail lashed the water; understanding the need for both speed and subtlety in the water, he had transformed into something that he subconsciously knew would be perfectly at home there. Above the water he would have looked like a four-legged mix between a blue dog, cat, fish and dolphin, with crystal-blue eyes, a tail much more like that of a dolphin and a wide, umbrella-like growth of fins just behind his head, protecting a set of gills. (2)

None of these features could be seen at the moment, however, as the water mixed with his fur as to make him almost completely invisible, as though he had simply melted into the water, so other than a wake on the surface that followed him out to the center of the lake, the judges had no way whatsoever of knowing what he looked like, let alone what he was doing.

Harry wasted no time making his way out to the center of the lake; he knew that this would be his first time going to the bottom, so he had no real idea of what he ought to do. Still, instinct had brought him this far, so he simply did what came to him.

His fin-like ears, far from being ineffective beneath the water, closed off against it as they somehow were, instead proved to be immensely powerful; any vibration in the water, from the flitting movements of nearby fish to the stamping of feet above the surface, were picked up by his wide fin-like ears, as though they were vibrating his eardrums directly. And with those ears he noticed the sound of rising bubbles of air, which drew his attention. Figuring that the only explanation for it was the presence of something farther down in the lake, Harry followed the stream of bubbles down into the growing dark.

Although he knew the situation was important, Harry couldn't help but revel in the feelings of power and freedom his current form afforded him in the water: He was swift and strong, agile and all-but invisible as he descended, looping playfully as he went.

Something was off, though, as he descended deeper. The further he went the harder it started getting to breathe; he moved off to the side of the column of bubbles and found relief that way, but became worried as he noted that not only were the bubbles getting larger, but the water had started growing warmer.

Suddenly worried Harry nearly doubled his speed, playfulness gone in place of urgency as he made like a dart for the very bottom of the lake, where he saw quite a sight emerging from the gloom.

In a wide clearing at the bottom he found a large collection of caves, from which were emerging a crowd of the silver-green fish-people; they did not acknowledge him, but instead were crowding into a wide ring around a large, crudely hewn statue of a Merman in the center of the village, to the tail of which were tied three figures.

As Harry approached the statue he heard some of the Merpeople muttering as he passed, "What did the human do? The lake will boil away!"

"We should never have let a Wizard cast such spells into our midst."

"Maybe he don't know 'is own strenth?"

Harry ignored them as he approached the statue; tied to it were two girls, Hermione and what looked like Fleur's little sister, each with small bubbles issuing from their noses, and Ron. Looking at Ron Harry could understand why the Merpeople were afraid of the lake boiling away, as he seemed to be glowing orange, heating the water and causing bubbles to form and rise away from all around him.

Acting quickly Harry darted in and used his teeth to sever the ropes binding Ron in place; he could hardly stand to stay near him, however, and had to let the boy fall to the silty bottom as he recovered from the searing blast of heat he'd gotten off his friend. The Merpeople didn't react well to one of their captives simply falling to the ground and had started waving their spears, as though to ward him off, but Harry paid them no mind as he got his second wind.

Once his surprise had passed Harry darted in and used his mouth to grab the back of Ron's robes, dragging him forcefully away as the Merpeople's confused murmuring died quickly away.

Just holding on to Ron was difficult, as whatever water came near him became low in oxygen, making it harder for Harry to breathe, not to mention that using his mouth to drag the lump through the water was both tiring and kept him from gulping the water the way he really needed to. About halfway up Harry lost his grip on Ron and he started falling away; as soon as Harry's head had cleared he dove back down after Ron and grabbed him by the robe again. Unfortunately he had pulled too hard, as Ron's robe ripped where he'd grabbed it and he started falling again.

Acting quickly Harry dove beneath Ron and shoved his head into the boy's stomach, lashing his tail powerfully as he struggled to force the boy toward the surface; he barely noticed Krum descending not far away, but when he saw Fleur rising close-by he approached her. Fleur was struggling, and something told him she was being attacked by something. Seeing a bunch of Grindylows he opened his mouth and sort of... screeched; in response a powerful jet of water lashed out, barely passing by Fleur and smashing the Grindylows into a stone formation, which crumbled atop them.

Satisfied that Fleur was safe, Harry redoubled his efforts to get Ron to the surface, despite the heat that was enveloping the two of them.

Sensing the surface wasn't far away Harry leveled out, pushing Ron above that barrier while staying comfortably below it himself; he was swimming so hard that to the observers it looked as though Ron might have been getting pulled in to shore by a very long rope, pulled by very strong horses.

"What's this! Something's broke the surface! Might it be the giant squid having a bit of a play-date? Or have one of our Champions returned? Surely none could be finished so quickly!" Harry heard, distorted by the water, Bagman's commentary as he made his way to the shore; the heat coming off Ron was starting to slow him down and make him a bit dizzy, so as soon as he sensed that the water was shallow enough to stand up in he transformed back into a human.

Taking Ron in his arms Harry pulled the two of them up; now that he was no longer breathing the water, the heat coming off his friend felt much more welcome as he struggled to pull the boy over onto his shoulders, so he could trudge the two of them to shore.

"What! Impossible! One of the champions has returned, task finished! If I'm not mistaken I think, yes, it's Harry Potter, with friend Ron Weasley slung over his shoulders! Incredible! Hardly twenty minutes have passed and ladies and gentlemen we already have our first victorious Champion returning to shore!"

Harry ignored the commentary as he made a bee-line for Madame Pomfrey, who seemed beside herself as she nearly rushed out into the water to dry both Ron and he off; Harry handed Ron off to the woman, telling her "I don't think the lake agreed with him."

Suddenly Ron spat out a stream of very hot water, which landed on the ground nearby with steam rising away from it; Ron, though, hardly seemed to notice the heat as he curled up with a groan and started shivering. Seeing the reaction Madame Pomfrey gave Professor Dumbledore a very sour look and started working on casting warming charms over him.

Seeing that Ron was safe Harry started retreating back to the water. Before he could so much as step foot in it, however, Madame Pomfrey cast a spell that blocked him from going any further, "Oh no you don't! You're going to stay right here, dry off, and warm up! Let the other Champions have their _Task_!" The last word was spat, giving everyone who heard it a very good idea of what the medical matron thought of the 'Task'.

Harry gave the lake a worried look as Bagman shouted something about scores. 'Fine.' Pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the water. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

The tip of his wand exploded into pink light as the familiar red and white ball practically popped almost directly into existence, slamming into the water with a great white explosion that sent a wave washing over the shore.

"What's this? Harry Potter has called forth his Patronus, but this time it looks quite a bit different! No longer a four legged beast with swirling mane, it now appears to be, if I'm not mistaken, some kind of Water Dragon! Flippers in place of legs, a great gray shell, and, if I might add, very kind-looking eyes! And it has dove into the water! A very impressive, if unnecessary display from the Hogwarts Champion!"

As Harry walked with Madame Pomfrey to where she had set up a tent he heard the judges talking in low tones. The mediwitch insisted on keeping him warm, forcing a Pepper-Up Potion into him despite his protests and wrapping him up so tightly in blankets that he almost feared he wouldn't be able to get back out.

His primary worry, however, was Ron, who continued to shiver despite attempts to warm him; after nearly fifteen minutes Madame Pomfrey gave him a general health potion and he calmed, but Harry continued to stare silently at him even as the other champions returned, Krum with Hermione in hand and Fleur clutching the head of Harry's Patronus, her little silver-haired sister laying atop the creature's bluntly-spiked shell.

When Harry saw the final arrival he gave it a look, one eyebrow raised; the Patronus looked back at him, gave what might have been an impressive call had it actually been audible, then faded to a pink glow as Harry started laughing.

Hermione, just getting dried off, gave Harry a queer look, "What's so funny?"

Harry shrugged, "I told my Patronus to get the hostages if one of the champions looked to be failing, I didn't expect it to bring Fleur back, too. It told me she was swimming too slow, and it ran out of patience and grabbed her, too." Fleur was now flapping about in the water, snapping up her sister and making her way back to shore.

Ron coughed once and finally sat up in the cot he'd been stuffed onto; he looked around, saw Hermione, then Harry, and asked, "Hhhh-, Hh-how'd it g-go?"

Harry answered, summing up what he knew, "Krum turned into a half-shark and rescued Hermione. My Patronus helped Fleur out of a tight spot with a bunch of Grindylows at the bottom, and you almost boiled the lake away."

Ron blinked as Hermione stared at Harry, Krum looking oddly between the bunch of them, "Did I?" Harry nodded and Ron lay back down, "Huh. Izzat why'm so c-cold?"

"Might be."

"Harry, how could Ron boil the lake away?"

"He got really hot."

"But, but he was asleep, like Gabrielle and I..."

"Ask the Merpeople, they'll tell you. In fact, I think Professor Dumbledore is talking to them now." And indeed Professor Dumbledore was having a screeching, though thankfully hushed conversation with the green-skinned people. Oddly, though the noise was nearly as bad as the screech that would always come from the Golden Egg, it hardly seemed to bother Harry, who heard the conversation just as he would any other.

Finally the results of the conversation were passed on to the judges and a hushed conversation was had between the lot of them. Finally Bagman moved away from the huddle to begin his announcement, amplified voice carrying out across the water as Madame Maxime hurried to Fleur and Gabrielle, Percy Weasley checking on the state of his brother, who didn't particularly enjoy the attention. ("You're burning up!" "Geroff, I'm fine!" "You're shivering." "So I'm cold." "Well you'd best get well fast, or mum will have my head.")

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've had a conversation with Merchieftaness Murcus, and we've decided to award points out of fifty to each champion as follows!

"Fleur Delacour used the Bubblehead Charm to great effect, making her way all the way to her hostage. We are told that she had rescued, and was retrieving her hostage when a Grindylow attacked and popped her bubble on her way to the surface, when a great glowing dragon swept both girls to the surface. Due to her success being nearly complete, she has been awarded thirty-five points!"

Cheers erupted even as Fleur, holding her sister protectively, moaned that she deserved no points; Madame Maxime consoled her, visibly proud of her charge.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Tranfiguration in an attempt to turn himself into a shark; it worked, if only just. The Mediwitch, Madame Pomfrey, informs that his hostage suffers from what looks like cuts from the teeth of a shark, but is otherwise intact and safe. As he returned second and just within the time limit Viktor Krum has been awarded forty points!"

More cheers erupted and Harry saw the Slytherin section of the stands waving around a great green banner showing just what they thought of Harry, the fur-clad Durmstrang students showing just how raucous they could really be.

Bagman allowed the applause to die down before continuing, giving Harry an off, almost apologetic look. "Harry Potter, by all accounts, dove into the water and disappeared from view. His hostage was minutes later yanked invisibly from his place and rushed to the surface, where Harry re-emerged with hostage in tow within only twenty minutes. As the method of this recovery has not been determined, it made for a very hard score. Additionally, upon returning, Mr. Potter cast a spell, the Patronus, which then interfered with the completion of another Champion's task, lowering his score, although _most_ of us feel that his actions display Moral Fiber that must be rewarded, Mr. Potter's score comes to thirty-five points!"

Contrary to the previous cheering, this announcement was met with some polite cheers, clapping, and jeers and laughter from the Slytherin crowd; Harry shrugged it all off, though inside he was admittedly a little disappointed. True, he hadn't done it the 'normal' way, whatever that might have entailed, but in his opinion he did absolutely marvelous.

"The third and final task of the tournament will take place at dusk on the twenty fourth of June, the Champions will be informed of what is coming precisely one month beforehand." Harry smiled, that took the pressure off him for figuring out what the task might be, "Thank you for all your support of the champions."

Harry decided, as Madam Pomfrey urged everyone back into the castle to get into dry clothes, that he couldn't wait for the third task; if it was as much fun as the first two had been, this whole thing might just have been worth it.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 17<p>

* * *

><p>I couldn't think of anything to put after that, so I just ended it right there.<p>

Some notes here, read them if you want to. Pokémon listing first.

Pokemon:

(1) Pokemon Name: Gyarados. Type: Water/Flying. Stage: First. Appearance: When Harry was trying to determine what his Golden Egg was telling him, he found the lake to be the most private place to do it, and started going there to puzzle over it. One day, while scouting for a place to do just that, he was attacked by a Grindylow, which jumped from the gloom and grabbed his egg. Angry, he transformed into something large and scary to scare it off: Gyarados was the result. If you've never faced down a Gyarados, you might question just why the Grindylows avoided that place from then on, but for those who've had the pleasure, it really comes as no surprise. It's basically a giant mouth with an angry, snake-like dragon attached.

(2) Pokemon Name: Vaporeon. Type: Water. Stage: First. Appearance: When Harry was going to save Ron from the second task, he wanted to swim well in the water, and also didn't want anyone to see what he'd done, so he transformed into Vaporeon. Vaporeon's fur is said to bend light through it while in the presence of water, in such a way that it seems to disappear into the water. It's a very powerful swimmer, but as to it having lungs... I have no proof it does, nor proof it doesn't, so I simply took creative license on the matter; it makes sense, since most Water-types seem as capable of breathing on land as in water. Same for its ears; I came up with a reasonable way for a land-ish animal to hear well under water without resorting to 'It uses its lower jaw like a dolphin'. Would Nintendo or Game Freak agree with me? I don't know, but it makes sense to me.

Now then, I know that long Author Notes are boring and that few people actually read them, it's why I put them at the end instead of the beginning (they can be skipped if one wanted to). I also know I'll have more to say when I come through and edit this, so I'll keep this to a minimum.

And what do you know, I was right. It's time for the good stuff, announcements! If any of you wonderful people remember in the last chapter's Author's Notes I said that anyone who could figure out the 'why' for only the Gryffindor Trio becoming Pokemon, specifically the reason I had alluded to. Several people got part of the answer, for example LemonySean mentioned a 'Mysterious Potion', aznelements mentioned that I had said that the Pokémagus potion is different from the Animagus potion, AngelForm asked if either the potion normally does that or they screwed it up, and nolyj suggested that Hermione might have messed up the Animagus potion, but as I said that's not the whole story. I would, in light of that, like to give a Cyber Cookie (It's imaginary, made of air, and very, very tasty!) to the-new-black and SelenaWolf, who both got it right! SelenaWolf mentioned 'that page that vanished', and the-new-black asked 'Er, does it have to do with how in the side stories Snape couldn't read their notes and when he threw them into the trash can they burned up?' So congrats to you both, and enjoy your cookies!

The sheet of parchment that Snape found in that potions book was not originally a part of that book, and when Snape saw it all he could discern from it was some scribbles, a 'Snape Sucks', and some crude drawings, specifically of a kitten with a heart over its head and its nose to a crude drawing of a fish, and what he thought of as a 'Dog with a halo'; these were Mew and Vulpix, respectively. (The 'halo' was Vulpix's six tails behind it.) Mew I think for obvious reasons, and Vulpix largely because it's my second favorite Pokemon (Mew is first). The parchment had been spelled so that only Ron, Harry and Hermione could read it, and that it would self-destruct when removed, which it did. Of course, the 'everyone else' version of the parchment could have had anything and it wouldn't have mattered, but it was made knowing that Snape would discover it, thus it was made in such a way that it would annoy him for the few seconds it took him to put it out of his mind. Hehe. What I haven't mentioned is that there was one ingredient to the potion that was not available anywhere but with that sheet of parchment anywhere in Harry's world, and it was an ingredient that had been lodged in the book in a plastic baggie and labeled so they would know what to do with it. What I'd like to know is if anyone here can guess what that ingredient might have been. I'm going to stay mum on it until either it shows up in the story, or someone makes the correct guess. I warn you, it'll take a bit of thought to come up with it, but on the same note I'll say that it's related to another potion that is more familiar to HP lore. If no-one gets it this chapter, next chapter I'll say which potion I mean, and we'll see from there. Get thinking, I'd really love to see a right answer!


	19. The Boy Who Lived In Squalor

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

Before we get started, I want to apologize for forgetting about Lapras in the previous chapter. To make up for it (sort of) Lapras' bio is at the end of _this_ chapter instead. Which is just as well, as there aren't any others. (I looked, so if I'm wrong, go ahead and tell me. :D )

And again before I start, I'm aware that in some chapters the beginning double-quotes have disappeared. This isn't intended and I plan on fixing it; the culprit appears to be 'smart quotes', which is when OpenOffice replaces regular, straight quotes with ones that slant, which FanFiction dot net's document handler doesn't know how to handle, and so sometimes drops them. Hopefully this will be fixed by the time I post my next chapter. In the meantime, I apologize for any confusion.

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><p>Chapter 18: The Boy Who Lived In Squalor<p>

* * *

><p>"Ron, have you seen Harry?" Hermione stopped Ron at the bottom of the stairs just as he was leaving them to head to breakfast, ignoring the other Gryffindors as they silently hobbled away; the previous night's party had gone on a bit longer than normal, and few people were as awake as Hermione that morning.<p>

"Huh? Harry? No, why?" Ron rubbed some sleep from his eye, the sleeve of his robe pulling oddly as he yawned.

"It's been really cold lately, I need to make sure he's doing alright."

"You mean spell his robes warm again?" Ron rolled his eyes; he was really starting to get annoyed with the morning ritual.

"Well, yes, you _know_ what the cold does to him, and jumping in that freezing lake couldn't have been good for him, either."

"Hermione, his bed is as hot as ever, and he looks and acts just fine. Can't you let off just a little?"

Hermione gave her friend a baleful look, as though trying to make Ron realize how dense he was being just by staring at him. "Ron, I just _told_ you: He just went for a swim in the lake, even if he was doing fine before, it wouldn't hurt to make sure _after_."

Ron was just about to protest, as well as point out that _he_ had been _far_ worse off than Harry after being pulled from the lake, but was interrupted by the door to the mostly empty common room opening to the sound of the Fat Lady's complaint of "It's about time! You're always so late! Would it kill you to be on time for-"

Hermione saw the entrant come inside and brushed quickly past Ron, who couldn't decide on a proper reason for not complaining, other than simply being too tired for it. "Harry! Come here, let me spell your robes."

Harry grunted, trying to squirm away like an embarrassed child from his attentive mother, "Come on, Hermione, I'm fine..."

"No, Harry, just stand still for a moment-"

"Really, Hermione, I don't need it, I promise I'm fine!" He needn't have bothered to say anything, though, as Hermione finished the spell in record time with barely a mumble; she knew the spell so well by this point that she could probably have used it wandlessly.

"Oh hush, Harry, there's no point in pushing yourself when you don't need to. Besides, after spending almost an hour in the lake, I'd have thought you'd _want_ to warm up a bit." Harry only sighed as Hermione moved to leave, "Okay, I'll see you at breakfast. You'd best not be late for class!"

Ron stayed behind, giving Harry thoughtful looks as Hermione left, Harry looking decidedly uncheerful. Once Hermione was safely gone, Ron started, "Hey," Harry looked at him, "Are you alright, mate?"

Harry seemed to think for a moment, then sighed, "You believe me, don't you?"

"huh? About what?"

"About not needing it anymore."

"What? The warming charm?" Harry nodded and Ron shrugged, "I guess. Still, the lake _was_ pretty cold." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Ron, please, where did you think I was going to figure out the egg? The baths?"

Ron frowned, "Huh? Harry, what're you talkin' about?"

"Nevermind, just... I'll see you at breakfast." Harry turned and started up the stairs toward the boys' dorms, leaving behind Ron, who was quietly thinking.

"Harry, where were you last night?"

"Out." And he disappeared around a corner, leaving a confused Ron behind. Ron, figuring it wasn't any of his business, simply left for breakfast; he was hungry.

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><p><em>Entry, for the eyes of Rita Skeeter only.<em>

_ It was very strange, and I'm not sure I understood even half of it, but I'll try to write it all down anyway. Since this is for my eyes only, rather than for the eyes of the public, I'm going to be fully straight and honest about what I write. No point in writing half-truths when I'm trying to remember what I might have missed. So here goes._

_ Just last night I decided to try to find someone that I might interview to get a better feeling on the life of one Harry Potter. Quickly I figured, who better to ask about the boy than the people who raised him? So I located the house of Vernon and Petunia Dursley._

_ When I arrived, I asked rather politely for entry..._

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><p>Rita Skeeter knocked on the front door of the house known best as Number Four, Privet Drive. While she waited for a response, she did her best to smarten up her appearance. Since she was among muggles, she'd decided to try to 'dress like a muggle'. She had... somewhat succeeded. After all, the outfit she wore <em>was<em> made for muggles... but she still made quite a sight dressed like a bit like Robin Hood, complete with green feather cap.

_The woman who answered the door was rather bony, as though she hadn't eaten anything other than apples for months. In fact, she reminded me a bit of a horse..._

Petunia looked over the woman for a moment, taking in the sight. She didn't get a chance to express her distaste, however, as the woman immediately started in greeting, "Ah, Miss Dursley I presume? My name is Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. I was wondering if I could, perhaps, ask you and your husband a few questions?"

Petunia seemed to mull this over for a moment, then responded with a question, "Reporter?"

"Why yes. If I could just ask a few questions?"

_It seemed that she rather liked the idea of an interview. Or, at least, the smile she gave seemed to make me think so._

"Stay here a moment, I'll get Vernon for you."

_She left the door open, but I think I might have been able to hear her through even a closed door... from the other side of the street. "Vernon!" she said, "Theres a NEWSwoman at the door! She wants to give you an INTERVIEW!" Such excitement surprised me, though I'm not entirely sure I know why off the top of my head; but regardless, Vernon soon came to the door. I almost decided it wasn't worth it, right there._

Vernon looked the woman over, a proud, happy gleam in his eyes. If he had been a Pureblooded Wizard, he'd have fit right in with a jubilant Death Eater doing what they do best. "Evening," He grabbed the woman's hand, kissing it in greeting, "Please, come in." He tried to wave her in, but his bulk required that he actually precede her before there was room enough for her to enter.

_The man was the woman's polar opposite. Bulky to a fault, it's a wonder the floor didn't go out from under him. I swear, even a magical floor might've failed to keep him aloft. A broom would've simply quit right there, I'm telling you._

Rita gave the house interested, yet largely displeased looks. To a muggle it might have looked downright _normal_, far too normal to have housed Harry Potter... but to a Wizard, or Witch as it were, it seemed like something of an insult that such an important individual live in such a stifling place. Even the air tasted old, dusty and boring. Not even a lick of magic, as though she had simply stepped into the middle of a field that had never seen even so much as a Flobberworm.

_Despite my misgivings, I decided to soldier on like the professional I am. To break the ice, I decided to ask them about themselves..._

"So then," she placed her quill and a piece of parchment to the side, making sure to bring their attention back to her, "What is it you do for a living, if I might ask?"

Vernon was confused for a moment, then smiled, playing along, "I make drills. I'm responsible for both production and sales of a fair portion of the construction-grade drills for all of England."

"I see." She smiled, in part for the easy answer and in part because she heard her quill going at it already, "And how did you get into the... drill business?"

"I inherited it from my father. Good old man, he was. Very industrious."

"I see. So I suppose your son will inherit from you, then?"

Petunia preened, smiling as she did so, though it was again Vernon who answered, "Well I'll have to teach him the tricks of the trade first, but he's a bright boy so it shouldn't take long."

"I see." She took a special note to ensure that she got down the pride they had in the boy.

_It was about then that the... 'boy' came home. Less a boy than a small whale, I say._

"Mummy! Daddy! I'm home!"

"Duddykins, come here. Your father's in an interview!"

"Really?" Dudley entered the room, looking curious. He seemed dubious when he noticed the woman, but Petunia insistently waved him over, so he didn't say anything before sitting down.

"Right smart boy. Goes to one of the most prestigious schools around, doesn't he Pet?"

"Yes, of course!"

_The woman seemed proud of this, so I turned my attention back to the man._

"Now then, what about your nephew? Harry, right?"

_His expression dropped. I thought it was because we'd stopped talking about him and his... son. Now that I look back on it, it may have been because I'd talked about Harry._

"Yes. So you've heard of him? We had to take him in when his parents died."

Petunia's face paled when she noticed what Dudley was pointing at. "V-vernon..!"

_That's about when things went sour._

Vernon looked at his wife, then at where she was pointing. Rita, noticing this, gave her well-practiced response, "Ignore the quill, if you would."

_That almost seemed to rile him up more. His previously smiling face fell into a scowl. I'd swear he turned bright purple as well, as though someone had cast a color-changing spell on him._

"You're one of _THEM!_" Vernon stood up suddenly to his full height, his rage and size making him somewhat intimidating as he started gesticulating angrily, "GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

_I tried to calm him down, to explain why I was there._

"Sir, I'm only here to speak about your nephew Harry Potter."

_But it only seemed to make him more angry._

"GET OUT OF HERE! GET AWAY FROM MY FAMILY! Petunia call the authorities!"

Rita stood up in a huff, "Now see here, I just need to ask a few questions! There's no reason to get so angry!"

"YOU'RE ONE OF THOSE FREAKS! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Afraid of the wand that the woman no doubt had, Vernon grabbed his Shotgun from above the fireplace, "GET OUT BEFORE I BLOW YOUR FREAK HEAD OFF!"

_Now I suppose most wizards and witches don't know about muggle weapons, but having been around the block a few times, as they say, I've seen them used. As you can imagine, I had no intention of letting him blow large messy holes in my side._

"Protego!" Rita's wand came out and, by the time she'd finished her first spell, the entire Dursley family had scampered off to the next room, closing the door behind them. Rita, seeing this, huffed irritably. "Now see here! I'm a member of the press! Known by name all around England!"

"We don't read your Freaky press! Now get out of our house!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake." Waving her wand, Rita forced open the door.

* * *

><p><em>As it turns out, Protego is not strong enough to completely stop the blast from a... 'Blast Gun?' Or perhaps I'm simply out of practice, I don't know, but as soon as I felt it hit my skin I apparated away. Right devious, that Blast Gun; the healer told me if I'd let those little bits stay in me I'd have been poisoned as well as bleeding...<em>

Rita tapped her feather quill to her chin, thinking for a moment.

_Although I now know no more about Harry than I did before, I think I have my story anyway._

She smiled.

'Now if only I could find something on that pink monster, my day would be made.'

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><p>When Harry got to breakfast a few minutes later, he found that the whole of the Great Hall seemed to be paying him attention. Rather unlike normal, when he would much rather just sort of stay out of everyone's way and do his own thing, at the moment he seemed to be very near the center of attention. Many of the Slytherins were jeering him, as usual, but what was odd were the sympathetic looks from the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, while the Gryffindors seemed, on average, more angry at something than anything else. While he walked to his place at the table by Ron and Hermione, he caught snippets of conversation from each of the tables in turn, though it was the Hufflepuffs that was closest to him (other than Gryffindor, of course).<p>

"Can you believe it?"

"Harry, I'm so sorry."

"I'd like to hex them."

"A cupboard? Really?"

"How could Dumbledore-"

"Couldn't we give them a good curse, just to scare them?"

"You don't suppose they'll send him _back?_"

Finally Harry made it to Ron who, sans Hermione, was regaling the others at the Gryffindor table with the story of Second Year, when he and his brothers had had to use their father's flying car to break Harry out of his bedroom, gesticulating wildly while he did so, "So we got the chain on it, and yanked those old bars right out of the wall; took a good chunk of the wall with it, it did! Harry wasn't in good shape, either, all beaten and bloody-"

"I was _not._" Harry huffed as he sat down, "Don't exaggerate." Ron jumped slightly at Harry's interruption, but Dean and Seamus, both on the other side of the table and apparently quite engrossed in the story, leaned over with a gleam in their eyes.

"Is it true? Did they really lock you in with _bars_?"

"Forget that, did they really keep you locked in a blooming _cupboard?_"

"What? Well, yes, but where did you hear that?" _He_ certainly hadn't said anything!

"In the news! They ran a story on it! Apparently, one of their reporters-" Harry snatched the paper from Dean's hand "-interviewed them and got shot at, so she did some digging. Those are some right terrible relations you've got, Harry."

"I hope somebody gets them arrested."

"They fired a gun, remember? I bet the policemen are at their door right now."

"Well then I hope they don't get off." Harry ignored the conversation while he read the article. _**Boy Who Lived In Squalor!**_ It was titled.

Apparently, Rita Skeeter had, indeed, gone to interview his Aunt and Uncle, and though she made a good showing of it, Harry knew that even she couldn't overestimate just how nasty the two of _them_ could be.

After her encounter with what she called a 'Blast Gun', "Must've been Uncle Vernon's shotgun..." she had decided to dig into his past. School nurses had given reports of malnutrition and the odd bruise, neighbors gave reports of seeing him hovering around the house doing chores while Dudley, the great fat brute, picked on him like a sort of sadistic bully, of chases through the neighborhood. Even the lunch-lady at school mentioned that she used to give him extra portions "Because he was so skinny!" Of course none of the adults knew that Dudley would often steal those extra portions for himself.

She even dug up that broken leg from the time Dudley had pushed him down the stairs; one of only two times the Dursleys had ever seen fit to take him to the hospital.

_Why, the first of the Acceptance Letters for Hogwarts to be sent to young Harry Potter, I've found, was addressed to 'The Cupboard Under The Stairs'! And that was, as Hagrid the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts tells me, the first of many dozens of letters sent, apparently because the Dursleys saw fit to dispose of most of them in their long-term bid to keep the young wizard unknowing of his legacy._

_ How anyone could wish to return to such an environment is beyond this humble reporter, but knowing what we now know, we can only hope that such abuse will not continue._

_ This has been Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter, thank you for reading._

Once he was finished, Harry set the newspaper down, just staring off into space for a few moments. Somehow, she'd managed to pretty-well describe his early life; she may have missed a few things, but really, how could she be expected to know about how often his glasses got broken, or about Aunt Marge's visits and what they meant to him?

Seamus gave him something of a smoldering look, promising insistently, "Harry, you're _not_ going back there!"

"I know."

"Why, the very idea that Dumbledore would send you back to such a place-"

"Wait, Harry, what do you mean 'you know'?"

"I'm not going back there." Harry seemed to have gone rather quiet, as though he were thinking about something else.

"You'd best believe no-" Seamus was interrupted when Dumbledore's amplified voice rang out over the Great Hall, silencing all conversations.

"**If I may have your attention!**" Dumbledore waited a few moments for everyone to realize that he had something to say. A lot of the faces were quite angry, visibly so, and he felt he couldn't blame them. Why, if things hadn't gone the way they had, if his hand hadn't been forced the way it had been, he would most likely have insisted Harry return to his relatives' home again this summer, though he suspected Harry would have had no objections. But with things as they were now...

"Now then, although I'm sure young Harry would have preferred it not be announced publicly as it has, the situation at his relatives' home only recently came to light to my own eyes, and just this past month Harry and I came to the agreement that he will not be returning to their home, but instead be staying here at Hogwarts until his majority. This change of address has already been noted with all appropriate authorities, so there is no need for worry in the matter of his summer accommodations."

One particularly rowdy student, a Hufflepuff interestingly, suddenly shouted out, "What about the Dursleys?! Shouldn't they be punished?"

"I assure you, the Dursleys will be dealt with as is needed. They were aware of their responsibility and will be dealt with accordingly." Dumbledore's eyes were then drawn to, of all things, a raised hand. "Yes, Mister Malfoy?"

"Sir, shouldn't Potter be staying with a magical family?" Before Dumbledore could answer, Ron interrupted.

"He's been coming to stay at our house each summer, Malfoy."

Before an argument could erupt Dumbledore continued, his hands held in a placating manner, "As Mr. Weasley said, Harry has been spending much of his summers with the Weasleys, which he has told me he enjoys very much-" ("I never said any such thing!" "What, you don't?" "Oh, I do, I've just never told _him_ that.") "And which Mrs. Weasley tells me she'd like to see more of him." Dumbledore gave a sparkling smile to the Weasleys at the Gryffindor table, where Ron, at least, immediately looked embarrassed. "Now then, with that settled, we still have classes soon, so I suggest we all finish our meals and save further conversation on the matter for later. Thank you." Of course, as he sat down, Dumbledore knew it was wasted effort trying to get everyone to stop gossiping about it, but at least things quieted down quite a bit.

Unfortunately, the most worrying possibility, he knew, was just as the young Malfoy had suggested: Lucius had put up quite a fight trying to obtain young Harry those years ago, and with these events having come to light, _especially_ with Voldemort buzzing around again, he would likely put up a fight again. He would have liked to have had more time to prepare things before the summer, when others would have heard wind of the change, and when Dumbledore had no intention of making it a public announcement like it was now. Worryingly, the other Headmasters each seemed to have their own thoughts on the matter. Why, the two of them even seemed to agree that something needed to be done about 'those nasty Muggles', and were even now discussing appropriate punishments. Having a babbling hex cast on them seemed to be among the milder ideas, though thankfully only Karkaroff had even considered a Dementor's Kiss as a solution.

Though that he gave in on the matter because he wasn't sure how a Kiss would really affect a Muggle was worrying.

Blast those Blood Wards! Couldn't anything work as advertised anymore?

* * *

><p>Interestingly, the now Public Knowledge that Harry had been denied, rather than pampered did nothing to deter Professor Snape, who continued to treat Harry with poorly concealed contempt. After all, Golden Boy or not, Harry was still a Potter.<p>

But that day, class was a little different. Although Snape glared very pointedly at the Gryffindor portion of the class, keeping them silent, he allowed the Slytherins to snicker and tease as they liked, which was normal. What wasn't normal, however, was when Professor Karkaroff suddenly stormed into the room, demanding an audience with the Potions Master.

"After the Lesson, Karkaroff."

"I'll speak with you now, Professor! You've been avoiding me-"

"I said After the Lesson!" Though they whispered their heated conversation, Harry could hear it as well as if they had shouted it. In fact, his hearing was sharp enough that he didn't miss much of anything that was whispered about him back in the Great Hall, though some of it was quiet enough that other sounds had drowned them out.

After that Karkaroff had stayed behind, standing beside Snape's desk as though afraid the man might stalk off without their talk. Harry paid neither of them any mind, diligently forging on with his potion; he didn't have much patience for potions these days, but did his best to keep from messing them up. Since he couldn't see colors in the dim lighting, he'd taken to using his nose in an attempt to differentiate between the different ingredients and various stages of gestation and preparation. It took a lot of work, he hadn't been _born_ with a powerful nose, and thus had to learn what everything actually smelled like, but after a couple years of practice he was growing to be quite good at identifying everything that came by his nose.

This task was, of course, made more difficult by those potions whose smells were said to be as dangerous as their liquids, and during the preparation of which they were supposed to avoid getting a whiff.

And that day's potion wasn't much better, what with armadillo bile and what he thought might have been the inside of something's eye; he was as glad as anyone else to get out of there.

Once he and Neville had made it to the halls, Ron sidled up beside them, a curious look on his face, "What d'you think Karkaroff wanted with Snape?"

Harry barely thought about his response before speaking, "Something about his arm." His quick response brought both Ron and Neville up short.

"What? What makes you think that?" Neville's eyes reflected Ron's question, though he didn't say it out loud.

Harry merely shrugged, as though waving the entire affair off as unimportant, "He kept fidgeting with it, rubbing it and looking all uncomfortable. Plus I'm psychic."

Neville, hearing this and not knowing about Harry's unique nature, rolled his eyes, "Right, you're psychic and I'm in three places at once."

"What? How? Did you get a Time Turner?"

"A wha- er, no, I, it's sarcasm..." Seeing Neville floundering, Ron put an arm over the other boy's shoulders.

"Don't worry about it, mate, Harry doesn't know a thing about sarcasm. Besides, he's just pulling your leg."

"What? I am not! ... do you want me to?" Harry's smile only made Neville roll his eyes once more. It was at about that point that Harry noticed something, "Say, where's Hermione?"

"She left for the library at breakfast, just after getting her copy of the Prophet, muttering something about laws. You know what she's like."

Harry nodded, knowing that the girl probably wouldn't show herself again for a good several days. "Well, I'm going to go see if I can beg off some flying time. I'd love to get up in the air about now." Putting words to action, Harry skipped away at a good clip, heading for parts unknown.

"I can see why; with no Quidditch, bet he'd get rusty if he didn't get any practice in." Ron grinned at Neville's unknowingly inaccurate summation.

"Yeah, that's probably it."

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><p>Sometimes Hermione wished she were the only girl of her year in Gryffindor, so she could get a bit more privacy in her dorm; as it was she only rarely able to sneak off as an animal to relax, and she was almost never able to work out any of the frustration her increasingly overloaded life gave her.<p>

But, when it became too much, she managed to make time, usually with Crookshanks slinking along behind her.

Mrs. Norris didn't much like it; the poor cat had no idea what to make of her. Even without Crookshanks there to give her the evil eye, the strange cat-dog-whatever just gave her the creeps, and there was just something about it that made her feel like, although it wasn't much now, it had plenty of potential.

That there was danger in that little fuzzball. Perhaps more than in the grizzled Tomcat that always followed it around.

So when Mrs. Norris saw Hermione headed down the hall, straight toward her, with a look in her eye that suggested she would like very much to rip her head off, the cat cut her losses and ran for it, without even one look back.

And, as Crookshanks could sense, Hermione was, in fact, quite angry. She'd known about Harry's situation at home, or at least some of it, but hadn't known just how far the whole affair had gone. When she'd seen that Skeeter woman's article, especially once Ron started in on his own tales of what Harry had told him, along with what he knew first-hand, she'd nearly lost her temper.

Perhaps in an attempt to soothe that temper, or perhaps to somehow make herself feel useful, Hermione excused herself to the Library, intending to look up any and all laws protecting Magical Children.

What she'd found was less than satisfactory.

Oh, she was sure that the Dursleys would get some level of punishment, that wasn't the problem; they were Muggles, and thus the Magical World would undoubtedly feel some level of insult at their behavior towards their supposed Savior. The problem was just how _little_ protection children were actually afforded. If Harry had been guarded by a pair of Magical Folk anything they did, now matter how obscene, would have, itself, been protected by law. Essentially, Magical Children could literally be beaten, every day, by their parents or any other magical relative, and the Magical World would just turn a blind eye.

Oh it was frowned upon, of course, but just the very idea that the Law, which she felt was supposed to _protect_ people could be used instead to protect what were truly criminals simply made her blood boil, and set her teeth grinding.

When she'd gotten back to her dorm after a while in the Library, she had quickly shucked everything away that she didn't need, and promptly left Gryffindor Tower. She didn't know if Crookshanks had sensed her mood, or was simply curious at her actions, but he'd followed her out. Whether that was a good thing or not she didn't know, but she was too upset to think about it anyway, and so didn't.

She'd found some out of the way place and transformed. And then set about stalking the halls. She didn't meet up with very many students, or teachers, or even ghosts, but those few people who did see her apparently picked up on her mood and didn't bother her.

She wasn't really sure how long she wandered the halls, her fuming frustration bleeding off slightly from the exertion, but something told her it wasn't enough. Every movement felt restrained, like something inside her was screaming to be set loose and trying to calm down was just making it more frustrated; her instincts, into which she usually tried to retreat to get _away_ from stress, were fighting with her better judgement...

And, finally, she gave in to them. Darting off at a speed she was barely aware she could get to, she ran across an empty classroom, and something inside her just... let loose.

An hour later the room had been thoroughly trashed. Desks weren't just overturned, but in places the wood had been broken into pieces; the blackboard at the front of the classroom had had something thrown at it at some point and was now in four pieces, barely being kept on the wall because of the magic holding it there. At least one House Elf had been chased out, and even now two more were hovering just beyond the door, whispering in a combination of fright, worry, and the need to clean up the mess.

And when Dumbledore finally arrived at the location, thankfully far from where students normally ventured, he found that even Crookshanks had retreated to the corridor, gazing intently at the door from behind one of the House Elves.

For a few moments Dumbledore merely listened to the noise; crashing noises were interspersed with random scratching sounds, small thumps echoing oddly, all set to a background noise of animal sounds that almost sounded like crying.

"Stay here for a moment." He ignored the House Elves giving him affirmative sounds; from what he could tell behind the now closed door, things had calmed down a bit, so he decided to enter and see what he could do.

There was a minor issue right at the door; the desk that had been thrown at the door tried to keep it jammed closed. A quick spell solved that problem and he entered to find that the cause of all the ruckus had not, as he had imagined, been a rampaging Skrewt or Hippogriff, but instead appeared to be a small, fluffy animal in ordinary, nondescript browns and whites, which was now curled up in the middle of the floor, shaking and apparently crying.

He recognized that form. "Feeling better, Miss Granger?"

Her head popped up from between her paws, and before he knew it he suddenly had an armful of the furry animal, who was crying rather inconsolably into his chest, pawing him gently. Taking a page from Mr. Potter's book, the elderly wizard used a bit of Legillimency to figure out what she was saying through her animal cries. She was going rather quickly about it, but from what he could tell she had finally figured out just what the Magical World was really like; she kept going on about children being victimized and having no rights, about how the law system seemed to be made only to help those already in power, and a few other things he wasn't quick enough to pick up on.

Sensing the mood, he simply allowed the girl to unload on him, holding her until she wound down while taking a look around the room.

As the sounds had indicated, the place was trashed. Nearly everything had bite marks on them, though very few of those bite marks were much higher up the legs than a few inches; a few of the desks that had been set on their sides showed indication that she had jumped up and clamped her mouth on their edge and started scratching at the surface for one reason or another. Most of the broken pieces seemed to be from hitting one object with another, like a chair against a desk or against a wall. Determining that everything was fixable, he waved in the waiting House Elves, who immediately started cleaning everything up, fixing what they could with their own version of 'Reparo' and simply vanishing what couldn't be so easily fixed; the relief in their posture was easily picked up on to Dumbledore, who decided to allow them to work on that for a while, taking Hermione out of the room and up to his office.

On the way out she fixed one of the House Elves with the widest, most earnestly pleading eyes that Dumbledore had ever seen on such a small animal, and squeaked something at the female elf, who merely smiled, "Don't worry for us, Missus."

Although Dumbledore was pretty sure that the elf had no idea what Hermione actually said, he was happy to see that her words calmed the girl down considerably as she simply retreated into his arms.

He sighed, having no idea how he was going to deal with this. Could things really snowball much farther?

* * *

><p>Though he had no words to really comfort the girl, Dumbledore was able to promise her that he would tell no one about her outburst, especially as he suspected that the violence had something to do with her Animagus form in one way or another. Though he did tell her that he would very much appreciate if she could tell him when she felt such a violent need again, so he could at least warn the House Elves, a condition which she was quick to agree to.<p>

And she didn't even realize that she hadn't thought to protest that it wouldn't happen again, only that she'd be more careful next time.

Life went back to being business as usual from there, though Hermione seemed to have grown a new focus on Wizarding Law to occupy her time; Ron hoped that this meant that S.P.E.W. would be forgotten, but if anything she seemed to be even more intent on it, simply as par for course. For the most part her housemates left her be, not prying into what she was studying, though the few times someone would they would have paragraphs quoted at them from books that no one else in the world had probably read for hundreds of years, relating to old clauses and by-laws or what-not.

Harry meanwhile was happy that his friend had finally found something to focus her considerable mind on; he had always gotten the sense from her that the world just wasn't... _hard_ enough for her, so having something difficult and time consuming to wrap her mind around... well, after only a few days Harry could already tell that she no longer seemed to be spinning her gears and getting nowhere.

Through all her academic career she would get to the end of an assignment, then keep going. She'd look up things that even Ravenclaws generally didn't look up, she'd research subjects only partially related to her classes, constantly double and triple-checking her work, all the while wondering why everyone else didn't do the same.

But after she'd started her new project, it was like some of that fire had been directed elsewhere; her work was just as impeccable, but she no longer spent all night memorizing every word of her report just in case they were asked for an oral presentation, or citing sources that no one was going to check, such as the earliest written account of the use of '_Alohamora_' in a crime (1346). She almost seemed more... normal, not unlike a Quidditch player that had been kept off the broom for a time by the healer being allowed back to the sky, that sort of relief of nature.

Ron was in a similar state, but for him, it was half-positive, half-negative. Together with his own intuition and Harry's account of his time at the bottom of the lake, he was now absolutely sure that fire had something to do with what he was missing, but unfortunately he had no idea _what_.

This led to what others would describe as rather barmy experiments with fire: One night, while staring into the fire in the Griffindor Common Room, Ron had simply reached out and stuck his hand into it. No one had reacted right away, thinking perhaps he was simply putting his hand up to reach out for the warmth; it hadn't been till someone noticed his sleeve burning that they panicked, pulling him away and putting him out with a quick '_Aguamenti_', which pulled from him his first protest to their treatment.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't happy with him, especially when he showed no overt damage from the fire, though she blamed it on over-reacting housemates (though she was thankful for this).

Not long later, he set himself on fire. It didn't last long, and he'd charmed his robes against fire damage, but it didn't unblock that dam that was keeping him from his Animagus and, frustrated, he asked Harry if Dumbledore might take him out to the Forbidden Forest and set him on fire while he was trying to transform. Harry agreed to ask, and Dumbledore refused the request, instead suggesting other, _safer_ methods to try before going to such an extreme.

Ron agreed to try those alternatives, but two of them were potions that just so happened to take quite a long time to brew; one of those was described to him as being a potion used almost exclusively to force a Phoenix to die and be reborn, and was made from the ash left over from a Phoenix's rebirth. That alone meant that it would be a long time, perhaps as much as three years if Fawkes was the only willing donor, before he could try that method. Still, it was nice that Dumbledore was now helping, which made him glad for finally figuring that Fire had something to do with it.

It wasn't long before, as promised, Bagman gathered the three champions together next to the Quidditch field, where he explained the third Task.

"You see, it will be a maze, you'll have to make your way to the center." He smiled at them with an eager look in his eyes, "There will be additional challenges inside, Hagrid's got some creatures he's going to set loose, and there will be some hexes and spells for you to undo and such, and you'll set off in the order of your scores; first one to the cup will be the winner." He kept smiling brightly, a little flushed as he bounced on the balls of his feet, still acting more like a child in a man's body, "So you'll all have a sporting chance, just depending on how well you do!"

Harry tilted his head as he considered the Hedge maze; now that he knew it was here, he wanted to explore it, but he rather doubted they'd let him do so before the actual task, so he tried to settle his eagerness for the challenge.

"And vot is to stop us vrom crashing through the hedges?"

Bagman gave Krum an odd look before shrugging, no longer bouncing quite so energetically, "They're charmed, of course, with some pretty powerful Impervious, but since you're all here I suppose I'll tell you there are spots, shortcuts if I may, where it's not so strong. Trick'll be finding them. Why, even I don't know where they are!" He laughed a little too sprightly, rolling his wand between his fingers, "Any other questions? No? Right then! Let's get back to the castle, it's a bit chilly out here, i'nit?" He laughed and started off after a nod from the three students.

While they were walking Harry got a niggle and looked off into the forest, stopping while he searched.

The other three, curious at his behavior, stopped with him, "Is something the matter, Mr. Potter?" Bagman came up beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

Harry blinked, thinking perhaps it would go away like that, but when it didn't he decided to be truthful, "There's someone out there. I think he's in trouble." To his senses it felt a bit like a butterfly fluttering its wings against his arm, except in his head.

This drew frowns from his companions, Bagman losing almost all of his cheer, "You saw someone?" Harry hedged with a 'maybe', but that was enough for the Ministry Official to pull to himself into 'Professional Mode', waving at the castle, "You three get inside, I'll deal with this, if I'm not back in ten minutes let one of your Professors know where I am." When they seemed uncertain, he laughed and waved them off, "Come now, I'm a professional, remember? Now go on, get warm, I'll look into this, nothing to worry about." And with that he walked into the forest, and the three students decided to take his advice and get inside.

Roughly ten minutes later with no Mr. Bagman, the three of them decided on Fleur telling her Headmistress, who looked only mildly concerned, but still told Professor Dumbledore who let his staff know before leaving with the large woman.

When Harry saw them next, they looked a bit dire, but said nothing about it so Harry figured it was none of his business.

* * *

><p>Several days after being shown the Third Task, Harry had a thought to write to Sirius, telling him all about what'd happened since his last letter and might he be able to come see him somewhere? Letters were nice an all, but he'd like the chance to hang out sometime. Honestly, over the last year Harry had spent more time with Aragog himself than with his own Dogfather!<p>

Of course, part of that was because he'd decided that, rather than simply squishing the giant spiders left and right whenever he saw them, he should get in contact with the old Acromantula and hash out some sort of deal for territory. They'd visited three times since that first meeting, and he could say without a doubt that no one was truly 'happy' with the arrangements that'd been dealt with, but there was certainly less spider-squishing going on since the spiders had agreed to a set territory. That was nice, and he swore that that little shrine got all sorts of random stuff left there afterward, most of which smelled like the centaurs.

By the time the day for the last task came, Harry was feeling in pretty good spirits, though not quite flittering from place to place with a beaming smile on his face. True, the smile never left his face, but he wasn't disturbing the other students, preferring to save that energy for the actual task.

Then, a few hours early, just when Ron was off to do an exam for History of Magic, Harry found himself being dragged off for something related to the Tournament.

And once he got to the room in question, he found that the other two champions had what appeared to be members of their families there, and were having a grand old time.

So it didn't take much wondering to figure out why Mr., Mrs., and Bill Weasley were there, "Hullo."

"Oh Harry! It's sooo good to see you!" Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in a crushing hug while the other families watched with amusement.

Mrs. Weasley didn't seem quite ready to let him go, so Bill attempted to save him with small talk, "So Harry, how've you been? Keeping up with schoolwork?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded as best he could.

"We heard you switched some classes, Ancient Runes, right?"

"Arithmancy."

"Oh? Not Ancient Runes?"

"No, I still like Care of Magical Creatures. Besides, I understand runes like I understand chicken scratches." Harry smiled cheekily as the two Weasley men grinned back, Mr. Weasley rubbing his chin.

"Well you know, Aurors usually take Ancient Runes, have you thought about that as a career?"

"No, I haven't. Do they get to fight a lot?"

Mr. Weasley blinked, then shook his head, "I think most Aurors would prefer _not_ to fight, but they _are_ trained, I suppose. As well you've got a leg up on them, what with all the training you must've done for this tournament."

"Well not really, I am looking forward to the maze, though." Mr. Weasley looked amused for a moment, then frowned as he looked back up at his wife.

"Molly could you kindly put him down? He can't give us a tour if you hold him the whole time."

"Yes, yes of course, I suppose I'm just worked up, all that nasty stuff that Skeeter woman wrote, it can't all be true though, can it?" She laughed half to herself as she brushed him down, seemingly looking for rips or tears or who knew what.

"Well, most of it, I suppose I don't know about some stuff. I know Uncle Vernon got a new shotgun after Hagrid broke the old one, but I don't know if he'd ever actually fired it..." This, somehow, made some of the other faces in the room go a bit sour, but Mr. Weasley was quick to cover the silence.

"Well! How about we go on that walkabout, hmm? I must say not much has changed since I was here last, but there are some new faces about, if I dare say."

"Oh sure, what d'you want to have a look at? The Labyrinth? The Chamber of Secrets? Professor Dumbledore mentioned something about a secret room, we could go looking for that if you wanted." Within moments talk of exploring the school Harry's face had gotten a tad flushed and he had started to gush a bit.

The Weasleys were understandably surprised about the Labyrinth, though.

* * *

><p>Not long after Harry had dragged the Weasleys to a few of his favorite places (well, the ones within school grounds, at any rate), and the schools and guests had had their fills of supper, just as the enchanted ceiling was starting to show a darkening sky, Dumbledore stood up.<p>

Recognizing the nervous tension in the room, he smiled, which somehow put at least _some_ of the people in the room more at ease, if only because they suspected, with that smile, that the wait was over. "Ladies and gentlemen, the final task of the Triwizard Tournament will be starting in five minutes. I would like to ask all those who would like to spectate to make their way to the stands around the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch; for those who don't know the way, I'd like the Prefects to lead the way. As for the Champions, if you could come to the Head Table, Mr. Bagman and Mr. Fudge, who is standing in for Mr. Crouch, will lead you to where you need to be. Thank you." Dumbledore smiled as he watched the heavy crowds of youngsters crush their way out the doors, with only the slightest bit of order and decorum.

Of course, some of them doubtless thought that five minutes may not be enough time to get properly settled in, but all the same.

With nary but a nod at the champions, who left with the Ministers in question, Dumbledore swept out alongside Professors Karkaroff and Maxime.

Out on the Quidditch Pitch, just as the judges themselves were getting settled into place Mr. Bagman was fussing over the Champions under the nervous, slightly disapproving eye of Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge.

"Alright, now because of scores, Mr. Krum will be going first, followed by Miss Delacour, and Mr. Potter will be going last. Once you go in, you can only use what you already have. Several Professors will be patrolling around the maze, so if you get in trouble and can't get out, just send up some sparks and we'll get you out, alright?" He gave the champions one last, quietly desperate look. Seeing no questions coming, he nodded, "You'll each have your own entrance, Mr. Krum-" he indicated one opening in the hedge ring that encircled the pitch, "Miss Delacour-" an opening in the middle for her, "and Mr. Potter." Harry nodded his understanding at having the opening on the left. "Good luck, to all of you."

"It's time." Minister Fudge tried to grunt for Bagman to understand, but his own palpable nervousness made it less a commanding grunt and more an uncomfortable cough.

"Yes, of course, to your positions." As the champions took their places, Mr. Bagman stood straight up, pointed his wand at his throat, intoned the familiar "_Sonorus_" and turned to the crowds.

When he spoke, his voice again boomed across the area, as though projected everywhere at once. "Welcome one and all to the final Task of the great Triwizard Tournament!"

* * *

><p>End Chapter 18<p>

* * *

><p>Well, as promised, here's this:<p>

Pokemon Name: Lapras. Type: Water/Ice. Stage: Basic. Appearance: Near the end of Harry's performance of the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, he is stopped from going _back_ into the water, so instead he conjures a Patronus to ensure that his friend remains safe (also the other champions, but really, they are their own problems). Lapras answered his call, being a species known to be eager to help and comfortable in the water. Being a Patronus, its call was silent, but Harry was able to hear it well enough to know that it had, ultimately, gotten impatient waiting for Fleur Delacour to finish fighting off a bunch of Grindylows, rescuing both her and her sister and taking them for a very comfortable ride back to shore. Unlike in canon, where Harry's actions had been taken during his own time in the water, having finished his task and then insisted upon going back was taken in a negative light by three of the five judges. Karkaroff for obvious reasons, Percy because it really _was_ against the rules, and Madame Maxime in part because she was _sure_ that Fleur would have been fine without the interruption; Professor Dumbledore and Minister Bagman voting in his favor but being out-voted. Had Fleur actually lost to the Grindylows before the interruption, she might have been more forgiving, so Lapras' impatience seems not to have been a good thing.

And finally, at the end of the last chapter I mentioned that I would confirm the as-yet-unannounced 'special ingredient' in the Pokemagus Potion, and had challenged anyone to guess what it might have been. There weren't many takers, though the overall response to the chapter can be partly blamed for this chapter getting finished in the first place (thank you all, you're all wonderful ^^v ).

Aytheria gets noted for speculating that it would be related to Polyjuice (which is correct), along with Ciekawa Osoba, and Entoarox got even closer by saying it was Polyjuice with 'pokemon dna of some type'. As well, Lord Anime got a Cyber Cookie not for guessing the ingredient (he and a few others guessed 'Wolfsbane', which surprised me considering it was named as an ingredient, and thus couldn't have been secret), but instead for asking a question I was really happy someone asked: Harry is, overall, 'A Mew' that is effectively 'The Mew for This Realm'. This ties into the final Cyber Cookie for the chapter, which goes to Chaosglory626, who correctly guessed that the secret ingredient was the hair of a Mew, which contains the DNA of all Pokemon and therefore is the only logical ingredient that could cause the effects noted. As explained before, it was an ingredient that didn't exist anywhere in the Magical World before then, because it came from the Pokemon World, though it wouldn't take much to realize that, with Harry being a Mew, it could be replicated now.

That's all for now; thank you all for reviewing, and I hope you like this chapter, even if I _did_ leave you on a bit of a cliffhanger. ^^v

Alex Ultra: DAYTO-NAA-AAA-AA-AA-A-A-AAA-A-A!

LATER


	20. The Final Task Is Surviving

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

Well, there is at least one reviewer that I'm going to have to disappoint with this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 19: The Final Task Is Surviving<p>

* * *

><p>"Good luck, to all of you."<p>

"It's time." Minister Fudge tried to grunt for Bagman to understand, but his own palpable nervousness made it less a commanding grunt and more an uncomfortable cough.

"Yes, of course, to your positions." As the champions took their places, Mr. Bagman stood straight up, pointed his wand at his throat, intoned the familiar "_Sonorus_" and turned to the crowds.

When he spoke, his voice again boomed across the area, as though projected everywhere at once. "Welcome one and all to the final Task of the great Triwizard Tournament!" He allowed the screams and cheers this announcement caused to die down before continuing, "Now let me remind you of the standing of points! In first place, with eighty-two points is Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute!" He let the cheers die down again before adding, "In second place with seventy-nine points is Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbaton Academy!" After some more cheering, he finished with Harry, "And currently trailing in points, with an even seventy total, is Harry Potter of Hogwarts School!"

Unlike the other two, Harry's announcement elicited nearly as many boo's and jeers as screams and cheers, though some appeared all the more motivated to scream as loudly as possible, and Luna Lovegood had apparently dusted off her old Griffindor hat because the distinct sound of roaring could be heard even over all the other noise.

"So now it starts! Mr. Krum, on my signal! Three... Two..." Bagman gave a sharp tweet on a wooden whistle hanging from his neck, and Krum rushed into the hedge-maze.

"Now then, each point equals fifteen seconds head start, so we will wait, and Miss Delacour, on my signal!" Everyone waited with baited breath as Bagman cast a _Tempus Elongre_ and watched the numbers go by, "And Three... Two..." And with a second tweet, Fleur was inside, doubtless eager to prove herself.

Two minutes and fifteen seconds, especially in an atmosphere like this one, felt like an eternity to Harry, who had taken to imitating Bagman at his most hyper, waiting for his turn. During this time, there were a few people who noticed that he didn't have his wand in hand, but Harry took no notice.

Finally, after what felt like far too long of a time, Harry was given a sharp whistle-blast and was inside the maze.

As soon as he'd gotten inside, all sound from outside had died away. The creeping darkness made little difference to him, as it was still bright enough to seem as much day as night. So he ran, full bore, in whichever direction he pleased.

He didn't meet much resistance from the maze itself; the more of it he saw, the more he memorized, and the more he knew exactly where he was. He was making steady, quick progress through the maze, not even stopping for the strangleweed (or whatever it was called), nor for that odd mist that made the world turn upside down (he simply transformed, taking flight instead of running, and the world instantly turned to normal, though he didn't change back to a human).

He kept going until he came across Krum, who appeared to have fallen unconscious. Without a good reason why, Harry shrugged, figuring he must have fallen to an enchantment and sent up some red sparks so someone could come pick him up.

A Dementor popped up in his path, which Harry dealt with by simply punching into oblivion, not even bothering to stop until he barreled straight into the front of a Blast-Ended Skrewt. He wrestled it down for old-times sake, then kicked it away and left it alone, continuing on his path.

Not even bothering to take note of the fact that he was small, pink and flying, he zoomed straight past a confused-looking Fleur, who had looked like she might have been inclined to fight him until he'd actually passed her by, faster than she could draw her wand.

Then, finally, something came to stop his progress.

It was a cat. A very large cat with the head of a human, who was making movements, swiping at the air to keep him from passing by. So, he changed into a human again to speak with it.

Her? Yes, her. Despite the mane. It replaced human hair, if he remembered right for Sphinxes.

After questioning her, she explained that he had to answer a riddle, and if he got it right he could go, if he got it wrong she would attack him.

"Can't we just fight?"

"Please do this properly, wizard."

"Fine, what's the riddle?" Harry listened to the riddle and sighed.

It wasn't that he wasn't smart enough to figure it out; given time, he probably could have.

He just didn't care to. "I don't know, a Dementor?"

"Wrong. Defend yourself." She got off her haunches and Harry responded by transforming back into his natural form and taking the lunge straight-on.

The lioness was quite skilled with fighting, her claws always seemed to be on their way to slash him, and though she didn't have the teeth of a normal lion, the fact that she was actually quite difficult to attack magically made it all the more invigorating.

He dodged. He weaved, spinning and dancing through the air and on the ground alike, smacking at her sides when he got an opening, his pink bubble popping in and out of existence several times.

And then he saw it, a look in the Sphinx's eye that meant she knew she couldn't win.

Finally, she snarled, still attacking with full ferocity, "I cannot stop until knocked out."

Taking this for what it was, a submission, Harry did a spin-kick that slammed her sideways into the ground, picked her up with his tail and spun her the other direction back into the ground, where she finally stopped resisting.

He nodded respectfully at her, feeling happy at the battle, but a bit sad that it hadn't been a bit more. He'd been hoping for more, but he'd take what he could get.

Turning back to where he was going, Harry wondered if there were more dangerous things even deeper inside, and with a grin zoomed further along, without even a clue that Fleur had just, at that moment, stumbled across the unconscious Skrewt.

It didn't take very long, especially as his photographic memory and instinctive understanding of his location allowed him to get to the center almost too quickly, but once he was there he looked around, smiling and almost buzzing with energy, prepared for almost anything.

What actually came out for him to see made him frown.

'A spider? Out here? ... the wizards must have done it.' He frowned as he floated nearer.

Quite unlike the rest of the Acromantula's lately, this one screamed an attack cry and leapt for him with little prompting.

'It's hungry, probably barely thinking except about food.' Honestly, Harry was more unhappy about the poor treatment than he was about being attacked by _yet-another-spider_.

Deciding to make something of the situation, he took the attack straight-on, grabbing the limbs that tried to skewer him and using them to pull and throw the mature Acromantula on its back. It didn't take it long to recover, screaming back at him with the exact same attack.

After three more such lunges, Harry was officially bored, so he decided to end it in the most humane way possible, by delivering a kick to the center of its eight eyes that caved its head in, killing it instantly.

He didn't _like_ the giant spiders, not just because they'd tried to eat him all those years ago, but somewhat because his instincts just _told_ him not to like them... but that didn't mean it deserved to be kept, probably alone, until it was so close to starving as to take the first meat it saw even at the risk of its own life, which experience told him Aragog's brood wouldn't normally do. So he respected the fallen arachnid with a bow before turning to the center of the clearing.

Smile in place, Harry approached the cup at the center of the clearing. It wasn't the bright, playful smile he would have liked to have at this point, but something quite a bit more tired.

He wasn't 'actually' tired, but the inhumanity shown in the handling of the Acromantula, and presumably in the Sphinx, which appeared to have been charmed to act the way it had, left a heavy weight in his heart.

He understood why he did it, but that didn't mean he had to _like_ it. So, as he closed the distance with the cup, he stopped beside it and... looked at it.

It was unremarkable. It wasn't especially shiny. It was just a slightly grungy cup, not even very appealing. All it was, was victory.

It wasn't even a hollow victory. It was still the victory he'd originally imagined, he'd still won it as promised. But it... represented something. Something he wasn't sure he liked.

It was the 'Triwizard Tournament'. It was meant to be won, even competed, by a wizard. A Wizard. A _human_ Wizard.

Which he wasn't.

It didn't seem fair, now that he thought about it.

Still...

He reached for the cup, and touched it.

Instantly he felt a pull at his center. For a moment he thought it might have been taking him somewhere the crowd could see him, but then it kept going... and going, and going, far too long for its destination to be anywhere near Hogwarts.

Silently he counted the moments, trying to grasp distance from time. He knew, having studied port-keys, what speed they typically went at, so he knew if he timed it that he'd be able to figure out how far he'd traveled once he landed.

And just over thirty-seven seconds later, he landed. He immediately started figuring how many miles that came to, but a spell distracted him: "_Homomorphus._"

And all went black.

* * *

><p>Hermione wasn't the least bit worried when Harry entered the maze. Harry was darn near impossible to worry, and his confidence was infectious; she really did suspect that the other two champions didn't stand a chance.<p>

Though inwardly she hoped he wasn't doing something stupid, like doing the whole thing in his Animagus form, or picking fights with every magical creature he saw.

Oh, who was she kidding, those were exactly the sorts of things he'd do. She just hoped he had the presence of mind to change back when everyone could see him again.

So she watched, along with everyone else, the screaming and cheering having abated slightly once the last champion was inside. She had to remark sourly to herself that this was a rather poor spectator sport: They couldn't see anything, except the red sparks that went up just before Professor McGonagall came out, Viktor Krum floating behind her, presumably unconscious.

This made her worry a little; not for Harry, of course, as much as she hoped that it wasn't Harry that had done that to Viktor, and that Viktor wasn't badly injured. When Madame Pomfrey shooed everyone away and shoved something in his mouth, she let out a breath when he instantly awoke, looking around confused before souring at his apparent loss.

She only worried what might else have been going on inside, watching with only mild trepidation until a chime went off...

It was like a small explosion of magic had gone off, making Hermione's heart skip a beat and then, she _swore_ it stopped. It was like the hand of death had reached up and grabbed her soul, and all she could do was sit there, eyes wide and paralyzed.

Ron wasn't so worried, eagerly looking forward for any sign, anything from the judges that would say what the results had been.

They didn't know.

_They didn't know._ Something had happened to Harry! Something bad! And no one knew a thing!

Except, as she saw the judges and other officials for the tournament, she noted that the referees seemed rather frantic, and there was a group, led by Professor Dumbledore, who looked rather tense, and whom were all approaching the hedge maze.

And she noticed Madam Sprout approaching, looking sour despite Professor Dumbledore's insistence.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore smiled, relaxing only marginally as he welcomed the beloved member of his staff, "Ah, thank you Pomona, if you would?" He gestured comfortably, though a bit stiffly at the hedges, trying to remain calm and doing a fair job of it.<p>

Pomona Sprout frowned a bit sourly, "Time to be rid of it, mm?" She tried to keep the bad taste from her mouth. She didn't much _like_ the hedges; they were practically growing wild and were little more than a nuisance and eyesore, but it still hurt knowing what she was about to do to them.

"Please."

Pomona sighed, pulling something from her robe: A small glass bottle, full of... nothing, or at least nothing easily discernible to the naked eye.

Rather carefully, she undid the stopper and upended the bottle, taking great care to shake something out onto the tip of her finger. Handing the bottle off to Professor Dumbledore, she watched to be sure that the fine black speck, which she knew to make out only by experience, didn't blow off her finger.

She got close to the hedge, and put her finger right next to a leaf; holding her wand with great delicacy, she cast a small spell, whose only use was this.

"_Revivicus Herbirexus._" The light purple beam struck the black powder on her finger, and quickly it was away.

There was no backing out now, so she simply stepped back to watch.

The 'Plant King' Herbirexus was a small bug, nearly microscopic, which despite its name was not simply an eater of plants; it would happily eat animals, plants, mounds of dirt, or really anything that a wizard wanted removed, so long as it had been sufficiently coated in a special potion. It was the potion, derived from the plant that the insect naturally predated on, and which itself was probably the only magical plant capable of withstanding the attack and continuing to live, that the insects actually ate; anything else was simply consumed, and destroyed as consequence.

She knew how it would happen, her eyes literally watching as the leaf she'd had her finger near dissolved to nothing: In three seconds one bug would be two, then two four, then four eight. Within thirty seconds the leaf was gone. Twelve more and three other leaves had gone. A full minute after that, a full branch, one more after that, a full plant; Hagrid, being the one to raise the plants, had soaked them in the potion every day during their development, and knew to stay well-away in case they caught whiff of the potion on his own hands.

After two minutes, a large portion of the nearest wall of hedges was gone. One more minute, and they could see through a small hole all the way to the center. The entire maze was gone within five minutes, and all able hands were inside, searching for all they could find.

The Skrewt, and even the Acromantula had been fed the potion before being put in the maze, so they, too, had been reduced to dusty piles on the ground, and once all edibles were gone, the Herbirexus lived as a buzzing cloud for only six seconds more before almost simultaneously falling to the ground, dead. This left only a few creatures, those controllable enough to let live and Fleur, who was on the ground hiding her face behind her hands.

But no Harry.

Dumbledore was furious, "What happened?"

Of course, no one knew for sure, but the diminutive Professor Flitwick noted, from near where the Goblet of Fire was meant to be, that "The Cup is gone."

"Yes, that would explain the chime," Professor Snape made sure that his sarcasm rolled thickly off his tongue, "But it doesn't explain where Potter's gotten off to."

This, of course, was a bit much, already being forced to try to keep peace between his staff, but he breathed a sigh of relief when his old friend Alastor Moody came hobbling up with a rather displeased, almost constipated look on his face, "Portkey."

He nodded, "Yes, it was meant to take the winner to the Judges Table..." He frowned as it occurred to him, "It was tampered with."

"Yeh, that's what I thought. Should've known, when they flummoxed it before the start, could've done almost anything to it." Alastor looked almost as sour at the thought as Dumbledore himself did, and knowing his old friend, he was already killing himself over the failure.

Taking this, Dumbledore nodded, "Filius, could you give me a hand?"

"Certainly! I'd be happy to!" And so, the two of them started a rather long, complicated spell that would reveal where the Portkey had gone to. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't especially hard to make a portkey that hid its destination, but the Goblet of Fire had certain enchantments that made tracking it down much, much easier.

Then, with an almost alarming pop, Dumbledore's heart leapt to his throat.

* * *

><p>When Harry came-to, he rather wished he hadn't.<p>

Everything was so empty. The trees, the grass, the tombstones, which he only idly noted were there. Even the pudgy wizard across from him.

The wizard talked to him, tried to taunt him, but he could give it no mind; his head had already exploded, and he was having quite the time just staying conscious. If asked to describe the feeling, he would have said that it was like a combination of being torn apart, shredded from the inside, and then mashed forcefully into a space far smaller than it could conceivably be expected to go, all without magic. It was like he'd been killed, brought back to life and killed again several times.

So he could be forgiven for not responding as Wormtail tried to get him to speak, "I said, what do you say now, Potter! My master is here! He's going to kill you! He's going to kill your friends!"

Of course, not getting a response from Harry stopped worrying Wormtail when the aforementioned Master spoke, "_Ignore the __boy, Wormtail, the ritual!_"

"Y-yes, Master." With eyes wide and fear obvious, the pudgy, balding wizard drew a knife from his robes and approached an insensate Harry, who still seemed to not even be aware of being tied up.

"_Blood of the enemy... forcibly taken..._" The aging man used the blade to draw a long cut along Harry's unprotesting arm, scooping up the blood in a small glass jar before standing again, "_You will resurrect your foe..._" He retreated, dropping the jar into a large cauldron, into which he'd placed a small bundle only moments before.

He then stood back and raised his wand, taking a breath before strongly stating out loud, "_Bone of the father, unknowingly given; you will renew your son!_" A grave not far away rumbled, erupting out a bone, which landed in Wormtail's free hand before being dropped into the cauldron as well.

Shakily, Wormtail turned to the cauldron once more, wimpering now, near tears as he raised the bloodied dagger once more... to his own wrist, "_Flesh of the... s-servant... willingly given... y-you will... revive... your m-master!_" And with that, he plunged the dagger into his own wrist, forcing from his mouth a scream of intense pain as the hand fell into the cauldron, lighting it and serving only to intensify the noise of his own cries.

And, as Wormtail shouted his lungs out, this proved to be just enough for Harry to focus on, his eyes seeing the wizard for the first time, and staring as though he were the strangest thing in the world.

For nearly a full minute after that, the cauldron bubbled ferociously; just as the hedge-maze was starting to dissolve in earnest, the potion started bubbling strongly enough to leave the cauldron and put out its own fire, which didn't do much good for the bubbling, which only strengthened.

Then a tall, skinny, pale figure stood from inside. It looked idly to the side and said two words, "Robe me."

Wormtail, not quite useless despite the pain, quickly handed the figure a robe that had been kept nearby for this occasion, which the figure placed across its shoulders.

For a while, little happened, the newly revived figure took in his own appearance before, with a satisfied nod he held out his hand, "Wand." Wormtail handed the man his own, and the figure smiled, which Harry thought particularly interesting for some reason.

"Wormtail, you've been a good servant. Raise your arm." He shook his head as Wormtail raised his wand hand, "No, the other one. Yes, like that."

And a few seconds later, Wormtail had a new, silvery hand to replace the one that had been cut off moments before.

"Now then, what say we get this going? Hmm?" The figure gestured for Wormtail to raise his left arm, and expose his bicep. He then ground his wand against the mark that had been imprinted there.

Moments later, several loud cracks, which drew Harry's attention in turn, signaled the arrival of several figures in hoods.

One of them stepped forward before going into a deep bow, "My Lord, Voldemort, I cannot say with words how glad I am to see you again."

This sentiment was repeated a few more times before Voldemort took a shallow breath, as though to sigh, "Ah Lucius, my slipperiest friend, it was not easy. Especially with _how little help_ I had from my _most loyal followers_. But as you can see, rumors of my death have been... greatly exaggerated." He smiled as he saw that his words had their intended effect, and his message had gotten through crystal clear: 'We'll talk about your _failings_ later.'

And so, he turned on his... guest. "Ah, Harry Potter, the... _Boy-Who-Lived_." He laughed a little, "How quaint. To think that some little... boy, could possibly defeat me." He shook his head, almost dramatically as he gave a visible shrug, "Ah well, why don't we find out, once and for all? Hmm?"

With a small spell, he banished the ropes that were binding the boy, and barked at Wormtail to stand the boy on his own two feet.

The boy, on the other hand, seemed content to stare at him with eyes that showed little more intelligence than they had the last time he'd seen them, when the boy was little more than a toddler.

"Hmm, not afraid? Well, why don't we show you why you _should_ be? _Crucio!_" His wand blasted a green spell at the boy, who merely fell over. He showed little more reaction than someone who'd had their souls sucked out by a Dementor.

Of course he hadn't, Voldemort grinned as he realized the boy was in shock. He was _too afraid_ to react! Oh how rich!

He stood over the boy, nudging him with his toes, rolling him onto his back. "How pitiful. Still, Dumbledore seems to think you're something special. Hmph." He sneered as he backed a step away, waving his wand again, this time without any spells coming out, "Indeed, I hear you've managed to 'transform', hmm? An illegal Animagus, at such an age? My, what a troublemaker. We'll have to let the Ministry know, won't we?" Some of his Death Eaters chuckled at this, but he ignored them.

"Dumbledore seems to think it's worth keeping secret; that it's some form of 'secret weapon'." He scoffed, "As though becoming an animal could be a weapon, let alone to think he could keep such a secret from _me_!?"

He smiled, with a little hum as he pointed at the boy, who seemed to be paying attention to him now. "Well, boy." He laughed, "Why don't you show us? Hmm? Go on, _change._"

This idea, Harry's mind latched on to. 'Yes, change. I should change.'

It came naturally, far more naturally than the reverse, and quickly Harry had changed into Flash.

The world came back into focus, and Harry stared down Voldemort.

"Oh my! How threatening! And such a vulgar color!" Voldemort nearly laughed alongside his Death Eaters, but didn't think it the appropriate time. He noticed that the... animal was frowning at him, standing on its hind legs, tail whipping agitatedly behind it. "Well, why don't we see how much of a... _weapon_ you are, hmm? _Crucio!_"

It was when he cast that spell that he knew everything had gone wrong. The animal _moved_. The spell had barely cleared his wand before he found it within his comfort zone; he had no defense against it knocking him back with a surprisingly powerful kick to the chest.

His Death Eaters, stupid as they were, were still a force to be reckoned with and instantly answered the attack with spells of their own, forcing the creature back.

Voldemort knew he'd made a mistake when he saw that _the animal was flying!_ It was a magical Animagus! That was nearly unheard of!

"KILL IT! _AVADA KEDAVRA!_" He snarled animalistically as he cast his favorite spell with all the force he could muster, his followers responding in kind, with spells coming at the little pink monster with incredible speed and ferocity.

The animal flew like a Snitch between the blasts, with some of them exploding spectacularly against a small pink barrier that popped up around it.

He knew it was a lost cause, though he continued casting spells until he saw it make its way back to the Goblet of Fire.

There it stopped for a moment, turning to look directly back at him, emerald green eyes making a silent promise before it almost lazily reached out for the cup, disappearing with a surprisingly soft _pop_.

Voldemort's rage destroyed Riddle Manor.

* * *

><p>The first thing that Flash realized when he arrived was that he'd appeared a few feet off the ground, so he contented himself with floating there for a few moments as he thought through all that had happened.<p>

His senses picked up the presences of several people. Not just some, but _lots_, so he knew that he'd successfully made it back to Hogwarts. And several of them were approaching him.

Not especially keen on changing back, he faced them, even as several of them turned wands on him.

He didn't care to keep track of what the people were saying. He didn't care that hey could see him, it wasn't as though Voldemort didn't know at this point, so secrecy just didn't seem necessary anymore.

So when Dumbledore managed to make his way to the head of the crowd, anger and worry and a dozen other barely discernible emotions rolling off of him, Flash focused on him. '_Voldemort is back._'

That stopped Dumbledore short, as the color drained from his face and most of his emotions, especially fear, intensified.

But no one else had heard him, so with a bit of frustration Flash changed into a human, surprising those in front of him, before saying rather insistently, "_Voldemort _is_ back._"

This stopped several people short, but some, such as Minister Fudge, didn't seem keen on accepting the idea, as proved by the fact that the aforementioned man laughed and approached, "Oh come now, don't be silly. He's dead!"

Flash eyed him oddly for a moment, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was still floating, "Death is a Place, not an Event."

"Now now, Mr. Potter, you _are_ Mr. Potter aren't you? If you would please come down? Your winnings await." Flash, if anything, backed away.

"Cornilius..."

"Headmaster, could you have him come down here? We need to finish this silly 'Tournament'." Fudge crossed his arms harshly, body language saying that he would accept nothing else, forcing a sigh from Dumbledore.

"Harry, if you would, let him give you the bag." It was probably his own expression that drew the surprisingly obstinate boy down, where he took the offered bag from the Minister of Magic.

"There you are, lad, congratulations on winning the Triwizard Tournament." He didn't sound very congratulatory, of course, and he very quickly started making excuses to leave, "Now, if everyone will excuse me, I have things I really must be getting back to."

As Dumbledore sighed at the retreating Minister's back, Filius spoke with tangible fear in his voice, "Is he? Is h-he really back?"

Flash, understanding the question for what it was, nodded, "Yes, he- _oof_!" Only the fact that he was flying kept Flash from being knocked back as a canon-ball of brown hair slammed into him, all blubbering and tears.

"Oh Harry! It was horrible! Everything went silent, I'd thought you'd died!" An especially strong sob passed through her as she'd said the word 'died', before in a quieter voice she begged him, "I couldn't go on if you did..."

Flash tried to comfort her as best he could, but didn't say anything as Minister Bagman started fluttering nervously, "Oh that's not good news. Not good news at all. Are you sure, boy?"

"He tried to kill me." This of course did nothing to make Hermione feel better, even as Ron approached, visibly appearing to not know what do say or do. Though he appeared ready to seek out Voldemort himself when he'd heard Harry's declaration.

"Vy should ve believe ze word of a mere _boy_?"

"Yes! He might've hit his head! Yes, if the Portkey went wrong, he could have fallen wrong!" Bagman seemed more frantic the longer he went, though he seemed satisfied with his supposition, "That would explain it, he would have dreamed the whole thing. After all, everyone keeps talking about him, and he'd have woken with a right nasty headache, it makes sense!"

"Come on, Harry, let's go find something for your nerves." As Alastor Moody approached, his frown grew when Flash pulled Hermione away from him and floated a little higher. "Now come on, I know he has that effect on people, but we can't just stay out in the open like this."

This time, Flash wasn't content to simply back further away, Hermione holding on to him with some confusion; she could sense something coming from him that she wasn't sure what to make of. It was a bit like the sense that his heckles were raising, and he even managed to narrow his eyes, a feat she'd not seen him accomplish since before they'd taken the Animagus potion, "Liar."

This caught everyone within hearing range by surprise, especially Hermione, "Harry?" He didn't respond to her, though, not that he needed to.

Unseen by anyone but Flash, Ron had discreetly pulled his wand out; the only reason Dumbledore hadn't taken notice being that he was watching his friend very, very closely already. Something had already set him off, and Harry's accusation only made the alarm bells louder.

It was Mr. Bagman that tried to break the sudden silence, "Now now, Harry, He just meant, I'm sure he's right, we could all probably use a nice-"

"He's a _liar_." Flash only pulled further away, repositioning Hermione almost like a child might a plush toy, holding her protectively before he narrowed his eyes again, going forward almost aggressively, "You're a liar!"

"Now see here-" Moody was interrupted by the boy backing away again, looking almost afraid.

"I don't want to be a liar, too..." He looked from side to side, having set Hermione back down on her feet, looking almost afraid as he backed away between the adults, most of whom appeared to be ready to console or comfort him.

Though Snape was certainly not interested in _that_. "Now see here, _Potter_. You will stop this stupidity at once! You will get down from your high horse and have Madam Pomfrey give you something to deflate that fool head of yours."

Flash's eyes widened almost comically, "No!" He shot up another few feet, "I can't be! I won't be human again! _I can't!_"

"What in Merlin's Beard-"

"I won't! I'm _not_!" Flash looked around desperately before, emotions running high, he changed.

To those that weren't accustomed to it, it was an elegant sight, that little pink sylph floating in the air, tail almost tracing paths of unknown meaning through the air behind it. And those eyes. So wide with fright and innocence.

And the fear, and insistence; with those eyes shining bright, Flash spoke, and all those that could see those eyes knew exactly what he said, with all the truth and honesty in the world, '_I'm. Not. Human!_'

And well before anyone could think to attempt to stop him, not that they'd have been fast enough to accomplish it anyway, Flash dove down and, with a trail of what might have been an illusion, but could just as easily been a trail of pink energy, he zipped across the grounds faster than any horse and _plunged_ into the depths of the forest.

"Harry!" Hermione ran after him, but Ron stopped her, even as Professor Dumbledore approached his 'old friend'.

"Alastor. A word?"

* * *

><p>End Chapter 18<p>

* * *

><p>*sigh* Why was everyone so darn sure Voldemort would become a Mewtwo? I guess I understand in retrospect, but meh.<p>

So I thought for this chapter, instead of a long Author Note, especially since I'm keeping things close to the chest for now, I instead have an Omake for everybody. :D I thought of this one at work one day and it made me grin, so enjoy!

* * *

><p>Omake : Another Kitty<p>

* * *

><p>Harry's head bobbed up and down as he tried to scout the back alleys of Surrey, checking for people, animals, or really anything that he might be able to see, or which might be able to see him.<p>

Ever since he'd finally managed to complete his Animagus transformation, any time he was seen by people they reacted... strangely. Very strangely, especially children.

He still wasn't sure what to think about his encounter with that little girl that had insisted upon getting his autograph. Of course, since she'd come prepared with pen and paper he'd happily obliged, but still he hoped he wouldn't see her again.

"So soft..." some would say, "So cute!" would be what others would say, and though the terms varied, none ever said "Hey look, it's a cat."

So he'd taken to avoiding people, and trying to keep out of sight any time he'd gotten the urge to transform; at this moment he was doubly careful, for as bad as it was to be spotted, being spotted actually changing would probably be worse, since that would probably get him in trouble with somebody.

So, having decided that there was nobody around, Harry changed back to normal and started making his way back to the Dursleys', toeing his way carefully around Aunt Marge's bulldog Ripper.

Harry didn't like Ripper. At all.

Now being as he was a cat he figured that this made perfect sense, but his dislike for Ripper went deeper than that. Not that it had chased him up a tree; Aunt Marge's bulldogs had been doing that for years, but there was just something about Ripper that was somehow... wrong. As though he expected something else, and Ripper fell short.

Oh well, nothing to do for it.

When that nice Ministry lady came to pick him up Harry found himself tripping over his own feet to be nice, and polite, and to let her know how much he appreciated all her efforts. He didn't want to say, per se, that he found life at the Dursleys' to be especially horrible, but to his embarrassment he sensed from her that she probably understood anyway. This realization had him squirm in place for a bit, getting a bit redder over time until he managed to distract himself with something else, when he discovered that Miss Cynthia was really very good conversation and very interesting to talk to and get a whole new perspective on things from. He'd never even thought about continuing with Muggle schooling while at Magical school!

Though Ron would probably have fits if he knew what Harry was thinking about at that point.

After a short drive, Harry was dropped off with a couple of Ministry men, who had him _fly_ to Diagon Alley, where Harry was all-but confined... to the Alley. Which wasn't really all that much of a confinement, really. Especially when he realized that most magicals, even the children, seemed to ignore him in animal form. Oh sure, they'd give him a second look, but that was about it. They seemed disinterested, so perhaps it was just a Muggle thing.

When it eventually came time for the Weasleys to join him, it didn't take long for the Twins, of all people, to corner him about being an Animagus.

Although still a bit embarrassed, Harry was emboldened by the general acceptance of the local magical population and decided to show them. So, he took them to his room, locked the door, and transformed.

As expected they took a few moments to think about it, then uniformly grinned, commenting, or rather teasing about how _cute_ he was, and would he like a scratch between the ears? And how Ginny would absolutely _squeal_ over him!

Harry merely stuck his tongue out at them and transformed back, opening the door so some of the rest of the Weasley brood could come to interrupt them.

An opportunity to show Ginny did not come, but Harry _was_ able to get Ron aside to show him. Ron was surprisingly accepting, though he also commented on his cuteness, swiftly saying they should get Hermione so she could see.

So Ron had grabbed Hermione, and the girl had joined them in Harry's room, curious to see Harry transform.

And transform Harry did. And immediately did Hermione squeal.

"Oh my gosh! I have posters! And tapes! And I've loved you since I was little! I've still got my lunchbox!"

"_Hermione!_" Ron tried to stop the gushing girl, who was by now set to pick Harry up off the ground, though thankfully she stopped. "What in Merlin's name are you going on about!"

"Yeah! People keep acting like that!" Harry fumed silently, frowning cutely while lightly stamping his foot.

Hermione had the decency to look apologetic, and a bit flustered, "I'm sorry, it's just, Kitty! You're Kitty!"

"Well, yes, I knew that."

"No, I mean, you're _Kitty_ Kitty!" She fluttered a bit more as she tried to come up with a better way of explaining it, "It's, a cartoon, you're Kitty, it's called Hello Kitty."

At that point one of Harry's ears twitched adorably as he blinked in slowly dawning comprehension, "I'm... I'm _Hello Kitty_?" Hermione only nodded as Ron continued to look lost.

Harry took this information, then smiled brightly, "Cool!" He celebrated, swinging his... _her_ arms about in hyperactive fashion.

She'd never been allowed to watch that show! Or, well, any show really, but now she was an actual character! Ooooh Dudley would be sooo jealous!

* * *

><p>End Omake<p>

* * *

><p>I'm sorry. I blame the glut of HK merchandise out at work. XD<p>

That'll be it for now. Until next time everybody!

Alex Ultra: Why Am I So Tired?

LATER


	21. The Rollout Started Before

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

* * *

><p>Chapter 20: The Rollout Started Before<p>

* * *

><p>Barty Crouch Jr.'s day had not been a good one so far.<p>

It had started out normally enough with some Polyjuice and the painful process of getting that daft old auror's wooden leg and magical eye put in place. It didn't help that those places wouldn't exist if not for the Polyjuice, and though the Polyjuice itself was largely painless, trying to use implants that his normal body wasn't prepared for _hurt_, much more than it would have otherwise.

Of course, dealing with that pain gave him an even more surly attitude than he normally would have had, so it was, in that way, easier to pull off the 'Mad-Eye Moody' act. It was also just as well that he was a self-trained occlumens, as he'd felt the old man Dumbledore, brush against his mind more than once. The old codger seemed satisfied with what he saw, or felt or whatever, but Barty had taken up his practicing again, if only to not show vulnerability. He had no illusions that if the old man wanted he could tear into his mind faster than his master could have him dead.

Or, well, perhaps not _that_ fast, but pretty quickly. He knew it was his acting that was keeping him alive, not his skills, though thankfully it was _well_ within 'Alastor's character to work obsessively on something like Occlumensy, so if anything the old man seemed more satisfied when he undoubtedly realized what Barty was doing.

But that wasn't why his day had gone so badly. No, it was because of the Potter brat.

All year he'd been trying to help the boy from the background, trying to ensure that he won in the end. But although his efforts had seemed to have been in vain up to the final task, he was confident he'd be able to ensure victory within the confines of that last task, especially when the old man confided in him what that task would entail: All he would have to do was ensure that Potter got to the cup first.

This meant he would have to intercept the other two champions, holding them off long enough for Potter to do what he was supposed to, hopefully without getting himself killed.

So he'd been in the Hedges when the first champion entered. Watching her with his stolen Beholder Eye, Barty decided that the cup was in no danger from Fleur Delacour, at least for the time being.

Not long after, Viktor Krum entered. He wasn't doing much better, and was in fact much less... graceful on land than the other.

But then came the part he'd been dreading, waiting for Potter. He could do nothing else, and though it turned out to be unnecessary, he was on a hair-trigger to... _delay_ the first two teens so they didn't get to the cup too soon.

It was Krum that he was still watching when Potter entered. He was almost alarmed that Potter seemed to be taking to the maze without a care in the world, going this way and that, getting turned around and generally getting more and more lost.

It was partly because of this observation that he decided to act; checking with the Beholder Eye, he caught Krum with an _Imperio_ and started leading him, with purpose, toward the girl.

And then, as he had that eye turned back on Harry, he saw it; Harry _changed_. The Beholder Eye suddenly had trouble seeing him very clearly, but it saw clearly enough: He was a pink blur, speeding through the air _off the ground_ and eating up maze terribly quickly.

He'd been warned about Potter's Animagus form, that he turned into a pink kitten, of all things, but this... _this_ he hadn't been expecting! Hadn't been prepared for! How could he have missed it!? Even with the slight blurring of the Beholder Eye's vision, he should have been able to get _something_ of this!

In his shock, he dropped Krum like a puppet, stunning him for good measure; in the back of his mind he remembered the magical fog of the first task, which prevented any form of scrying, even the Beholder Eye, and the way the boy seemed to _melt_ into the water during the second. Doubtless both were the fault of this... undoubtedly _magical_ Animagus form.

But mostly, his mind was screaming at him with something almost akin to panic: _His master didn't know!_ Potter was headed directly for his master, who was vulnerable, and his master didn't know about the unknown, and possibly great power that Potter may have had to bring to bear!

He tried to console himself with the thought that perhaps Voldemort _had_ known, and simply not seen fit to tell him, but he knew that was an excuse: He should have seen it, in retrospect. Why else would Dumbledore guard knowledge of Potter turning into a small pink kitten so closely? So closely as to hold it dear to his chest even from his 'old friend', until said 'old friend' had basically needled it out of him?

Even after explaining about 'Harry's change, _never_ had the old man mentioned anything like that! And that, if nothing else, should have been his first clue. Secrecy plus nothing to hide equals something to hide. It was something Alastor himself would have said, and now Barty Crouch Jr. was beating himself over the head for missing it.

He was also doing his best to stealthily make his way back out of the hedge-maze; Dumbledore allowed him to be there, 'just in case', but it still wouldn't be good to be caught there when things inevitably went bad. He was expected to leave as soon as he was sure nothing was going wrong.

He tried not to think about the fact that Potter's form was still somewhat blurry when he returned to human form to send sparks up for Krum. He tried not to choke on his spittle when the boy battled the Skrewt, or the Sphinx, though seeing him kill that full-grown Acromantula with a single kick to the forehead sent him into a coughing fit that had Dumbledore giving him concerned looks.

When the boy finally disappeared, he snarled angrily, signaling to Dumbledore, if no one else, that something was 'wrong'. Dumbledore was enough, of course, and the near bedlam that came after that lasted long enough for him to skive off to "check the perimeter while those bloody bugs do their work", though it was also a chance to get reacquainted with the Dark Mark that he was _very_ happy to see successfully return.

That meant his Master had returned. It meant that, unforeseen magical Animagus aside, Voldemort had returned to the fully living, and hopefully the Potter brat would be killed.

After making sure his mark was suitably hidden, he returned, giving his very-well-thought-out excuse for 'how could this have happened'. He didn't need to put much thought into it, just make it sound obvious to the old man. So long as he sounded unhappy about it, the coot bought it completely.

And then the boy came back. Except it wasn't the boy. It was that... pink thing. And this time, with both eyes focused on it, he could make it out. It was even less threatening when seen clearly, and at the same time all the more frightening.

The boy and several of the judges made a fuss, which he tried to stay out of, until he saw his opportunity and tried to lure the 'boy' away.

Perhaps if he hadn't been so impatient. Perhaps if he hadn't been so worried. So angry. So stupid as to try to 'act' for an unusually perceptive 'child' that may not have been a child at all, while also trying to keep the same act up for the adults around, especially Albus Dumbledore...

Perhaps, but that was in the past. Dumbledore had... gently requested they return to the castle. He knew exactly what that meant, and wasn't about to go without a fight.

The jig was up, so he nodded solemnly and, as discreetly as possible, whispered "_Cruci_-OOF!" And as he sat, magically bound to a chair with one leg and one eye still missing, he had decided that the absolute lowest point of his day, no, of his _year_ had been getting tackled to the ground by a small girl who skipped half her meals to stay in the library.

* * *

><p>It was only three days before his final task that Harry found himself wandering the upper floors on the Castle's North side. If he'd been the type to wax poetic, he might have wondered if he were hoping the Astronomy Tower might help him find answers to his quandary.<p>

After aimlessly walking for a while in corridors that were about as empty as the space between a certain blonde's ears, Harry finally stopped before a familiar painting.

In it there was a knight, who would periodically fall off his horse, try to remount his horse, try to _right_ his horse (who didn't seem particularly interested in standing again), and whom babbled nonsense non-stop.

It was Sir Cadogan, who had for a short time, been the doorkeeper for the Gryffindor dorms, and whom Harry had always found to be rather entertaining.

With a smile, Harry recalled the first time he'd 'met' Sir Cadogan. He'd been exploring the tower in his Animagus form, which at the time was still rather new to him, and everything had still felt so... big. It was marvelous.

Also, he'd had yet to realize that he saw better in the dark than everyone else, so he didn't at the time realize that he by all rights shouldn't have been able to see where he was going.

Regardless, he'd been wandering the halls for some time, and had come this way to see if he could scout out where the classroom might be. It was a good idea, in retrospect, but he hadn't been thinking about that at the time, simply wanting to have a look around.

He remembered hearing a voice shouting from around a corner, going on about 'foul beasts' and 'fair maidens' and what-not. It had been somewhat confusing, so he'd sought out the source, and found Sir Cadogan, whose horse had fallen asleep and was ignoring his rant about what a knight's 'true duties' were.

Harry found the remainder of this rant entertaining, so he sat himself down on the floor nearby and listened for a while. He didn't remember the rant proper, but it amused him so that was enough, until Sir Cadogan cooled off a bit and noticed him.

"What? Foul beast! Sneaking up unseen, from the dark no less! What say you!" He'd drawn his sword, fumbling awkwardly with it on the way out as he tried to point it menacingly, instead looking like he didn't know whether to play golf or baseball with it.

"Mew." That was, at the time, all that Harry could think to say. Also all he _could_ say.

"What is this? Come forth, cowardly knave, that I may see thee! Or shall ye stay among the dark with the ghosts and goblins!?" At this point he'd gotten his sword under control again, only for his helmet to fall over his eyes, making him stumble about, "What sorcery!? Bring back the light, dastardly beast!"

Giggling, Harry stood up and approached, but since he hadn't learned to fly yet he couldn't really get a whole lot closer than the floor, which wasn't really satisfactory. So at about the point that the knight had gotten his helmet back in its proper place, Harry decided to jump up high enough to greet him face-to-face.

So he did, bounding easily high enough to put both paws against the grass to either side of the knight, who reacted by yelping and falling on his rear, shouting angrily by the time Harry landed.

"Unseemly beast! What be ye? Some form of dragon! It is the responsibility of any True Knight to slay any dragon he happens upon! Have at thee!" Getting back to his feet, Sir Cadogan had gotten back up and started swinging his sword, to which Harry responded by jumping up and patting the painting again, which made the knight slash some more, and on and on it went until Harry got bored, and Sir Cadogan had decided that he was a 'worthy adversary'.

All of this was very fondly remembered, and Harry would always have a special place in his heart for Sir Cadogan, even though he suspected that if there had ever been a 'real' Sir Cadogan, the painting was likely a very poor portrayal.

Which led to Harry being here, standing before Sir Cadogan again, watching the knight fumble with the straps holding his horse's saddle in place. He'd apparently gotten bored with trying to strike up conversation with Harry, who had yet to react to anything the painting had to say.

A lot of the paintings did that of late, either getting bored with trying to talk to him, or angry at him for not responding.

It wasn't really like he was _trying_ to be rude or anything! It was just... it was as though they were trying to talk to him from across the room. A very crowded room.

A very crowded and noisy room, except there was no actual noise and they were right in front of him.

For, as Harry had discovered, he could now understand anything that just about anybody or even any_thing_ said, no matter the language... but he could no longer understand the paintings.

It hadn't happened right away. It had taken a while, but over time their 'talking' simply became background noise, and now, finally, he could no longer distinguish them from background noise.

And, he now suspected, this was probably why he'd had so much trouble with the Golden Egg. He'd been able to hear the noises it'd been making just fine, he'd simply been unable to make them out. He now suspected that if he'd still been human, he might not have had that trouble. If something had a mind and an intent that he could interpret, he could understand just about anything, but paintings were magically animated... well, paintings. And the egg had been a recording. Neither had true minds, though paintings appeared to, so he'd been unable to understand them.

In retrospect, it made perfect sense.

And so, with an apology that he wasn't entirely sure what he was making for, Harry's eyes drew to the floor with thought, and he walked away in silence.

* * *

><p>"Leave me."<p>

Voldemort sneered as yet another sniveling underling bowed his way out of his throne room, simpering and whimpering like some sort of unseemly dog.

He had given his underlings the... talking to that he felt they deserved. They had, as a group, been dressed down and, when he didn't feel that was enough, he'd chosen a few that he particularly disliked, and _Crucio_'d them just to the point where their minds _almost_ turned to mush.

Though stopping himself was a close thing. He had to acknowledge that if he hadn't had the self-control that he'd forced himself to learn over the years, the self-control that had allowed him to survive oh so many years as a bodiless wraith, only just barely able to overpower the minds of small animals for the simple anchorage that their bodies provided, he would have lost a few of them.

Though he also had to admit that it wasn't... _entirely_ their personal failings that had him in such a... state.

He couldn't explain it. Mostly because he hadn't yet allowed himself to dwell upon it, but he... _sensed_ that his encounter with the Potter boy had ended in a... spectacular cock-up.

There was simply no other way to describe it. Everything had gone wrong from moment-one. And it seemed to have all started with Wormtail.

Wormtail, who had happily told his master about the 'Pink Beast' that Potter now turned into from time to time, and seemed to enjoy doing so on a regular basis.

Wormtail had described this 'Pink Beast' as being a cat, which Voldemort had understood as being the root for the rat-faced man's dislike of the boy's animagus form. So, Voldemort hadn't inquired any further, and had simply moved his plans a bit to better prepare for this.

After all, adding anything related to an animal into the mix for a very... sensitive potion, whose purpose was effectively his own reincarnation, could have far reaching, completely unknown effects.

It required the bone of his father, for it would make him his Father's Son, and it was in the bones that family ties were bound. It required the flesh of his servant, for it would make him his Servant's Master, and the flesh of one's servants was a master's right to do with as he pleases. And importantly, it required the blood of his enemy, for it was in blood where animosity was held, and in blood where enemies and... _friends_ were kept. It was in this that the boy's blood held the sacrifice of his mudblood mother, because it was the blood that remembered this tie, so of course taking the boy's blood to have this protection for himself, as well as to circumvent said protection was _vital_. As it was, the same spell that had all-but killed him now _protected_ him, and only the boy could get by it, being the only one to bear the same protection.

It tied them together, he knew that, this was part of why he made a point to plan, and attempt to follow through with the boy's death. It was too bad that he had tried to revel in his victory; if he had known, he would have simply killed him as soon as the ritual was finished and be done with it.

But again, this hadn't happened, and again it came down to information. Information he hadn't had.

And, as he'd gathered first from Wormtail's screaming as the fat, balding man tried to tearfully gasp between bouts of the Cruciatus, and later from tearing the man's mind to shreds with his most beautifully vicious Ligillimency to date, Wormtail hadn't actually _known_ about the magical nature of the boy's Animagus.

Somehow, by some strange twist of luck, either Potter hadn't shown any such predilections before Wormtail had been run off, or the... rat's cowardice had prevented him from ever witnessing it.

It was probably the latter; from witnessing the man's memories of that year, Voldemort could quite easily see that the rat had spent most of his time hiding from cats, including the one in question, and from that fool Sirius Black, whom Voldemort now almost, _almost_ wished had succeeded in offing his 'old friend'.

Now, it was true that adding the blood of an animal to the ritual in place of the blood of an enemy would have unknown results. Would it turn him into the same as the animal in question? Would it have the opposite effect, turning him into some sort of dog, in a fit of Yin-and-Yang madness? Would it turn him into another of a cat's enemies, and make him into a rat? It would have been fitting, considering where the 'flesh' part of the scenario had come from.

Ultimately, it would have been up to the forces of Magic to determine how such a mix-up would have come out, and anything could have happened from becoming a tree to ceasing to exist, which might have happened if Magic determined that the boy didn't _have_ any enemies. (He was, for this reason, glad that the public had easily impressed upon the boy that they two were enemies. He didn't relish the idea of becoming nothing, or worse, becoming a bratty teenaged spit-spawn as might have happened if the boy's greater enemy happened to be one of his classmates.)

But after seeing that... creature in action, making a fool of him and all of his active Death Eaters, who even in laziness were still a force to be reckoned with, he would have been perfectly willing to take the risk if he'd known.

_If he had known._

But no, instead he went out of his way to make sure that possibility _wouldn't_ happen. Making sure Wormtail was in position ahead of time had been uncomfortable, since his infant body couldn't take care of itself and didn't much like being ignored, even if only for a moment.

Then, instructing Wormtail to use _that_ spell the moment the portkey landed 'just in case', while successful, had contributed, though he suspected that Wormtail would have done it anyway upon seeing that form, if only because of the memories associated with it.

And, of course, it had all gone according to plan. The boy arrived, was forced back to natural form before even realizing anything was amiss, and the ritual was completed before his infant body had gone through what would have become an embarrassing display of puking all over himself and needing to be cleaned up.

He'd felt his power rise again, he'd become more than just his adult form, he'd become the _monster_ that the boy had imagined him to be, and he'd become the fearful, imposing figure of his servant's nightmares, and he'd become the deeply detestable _demon_ that his father undoubtedly thought of him as.

And all of this he reveled in. He didn't just feel whole again. He felt... _deeper_ than that. He felt even more unholy than he could have ever imagined. He was a greater monster than he ever could have become naturally.

But, despite the risks, if given a chance to revise his plans, if given the chance to go back and try it with that animal form... he would have.

He would not have become that animal, he would have become that animal's _enemy_, which he had no idea what that enemy might entail, but it would have had to be nightmarish to be the enemy of something that could make fools of his entire assembled menagerie of Death Eaters, soft ones or not, let alone with him there, more powerful than ever yet still seeming like a child trying to levitate a feather.

And so, he had to cool himself off. He had to calm down. He had to accept that things had not gone... optimally.

He had to revise his plans. He had to see how he could... make the most of the situation.

And, his only real decision was that nothing could wait. He could not take time to build his power back to full again. He could not wait to woo more allies to his side. He could not afford to let the Potter brat grow even _more_ in power, as he undoubtedly would if given half a chance.

No. Potter had to die.

_Immediately._

* * *

><p>End Chapter 20<p>

* * *

><p>No matter how much I try, I just can't seem to write any more for this chapter, which is part of what took so freaking long. I've never dealt with angst well, and this is really where it gets started so I always dreaded it. To be fair, it was actually the RonHermione part that took the longest, as they refused to be written, but then when it finally did it turned out too long. Good news is that this means another chapter should be on the way soon, bad news (other than it taking so long) is that this chapter's too short now, so here's a half-Omake-half-possible-story-teaser. Hope you like it! ^^; Or skip it if you don't, which how would you know if you skipped it? ***confused now***

* * *

><p>Pink Twilight<p>

* * *

><p>When all was said and done, when Voldemort had been taken care of, when England was safe(ish), and when life had simply sort of... continued, FlashHarry finally, eventually settled into a sort of routine.

And then every once in a while he would, in a fit of spastic hyperactivity, randomly decide to do something so completely different that he left everyone wondering where he'd gone, only to return after some major adventure that only he knew about.

Now, though, he was settled into his place in the Forbidden Forest, merrily patrolling the eaves of the trees, which were in their brightly colored, late Autumn plumage.

Not that he noticed the colors. Even if his color vision worked just fine, it was now quite dark so even a human wouldn't be able to see much other than shadows and the sharp lines of sleeping branches, some trees bare already and others still holding onto leaves that rustled and blew in any light breeze.

To a human, it would be creepy, even freaky, and with the added knowledge of the sorts of things that inhabited the Forbidden Forest, it would be easy for even a brave human to be on-edge, frightened, nervous, _scared_.

Flash, though, barely noticed any of it. Flash was satisfied that the Acromantulas were keeping to their territory, and was just thinking that he might go see how the centaurs were doing when, in the distance, he spotted a lone centaur patrol.

The centaur had stopped to see something, as it had tickled his sensed several moments ago; it wasn't to say that he was especially good with _premonitions_ or anything of the sort, but when something at the edge of his perception had triggered his more primal reactions, that sense that most magical beings shared, he found himself curious.

So, carefully, he found where the feeling was coming from so that he could inspect it. He kept his shortbow in hand, his sword always strapped to his back, ready to be drawn at any time, his legs and back taught and ready to spring away at any time, though some part of him spoke, _whispered_, that whatever was coming was trustworthy.

Still, he kept his guard up, even as the _feeling_ developed into something he could _see_. It started as a small, violet light, not unlike the light that the Forest Guardian used, albeit of a slightly different color.

The small point of light grew, expanding into a ring of the same violet color, although as it grew more colors appeared inside, creating a chromatic display of rings that went through the full spectrum including, at the very outer edge, a form of ultraviolet that centaurs could see which humans could not, not that this individual knew that humans couldn't see 'quelt', having never asked.

As he watched the pool of magic, it slowly resolved itself into a simple, sparkling purple that lit the clearing it had appeared in. Curious, he looked to the sky for a moment, wondering if this were some form of omen that he should report to his superiors.

The stars foretold no omens, however, good or ill, so he resolved to wait and see what would come of this particular anomaly.

Eventually something did, finally, happen, and he found himself confused.

Weren't unicorns usually silver?

He was confused for several moments before, in the light of what was obviously a portal, he took a second look as what came through. It was not a unicorn, as it had wings. And was smaller than normal.

And _bright purple_. Although really, the color may have been an illusion due to the color of the portal behind... her. Definitely a her. Her build may have been strange to him, but she was horse-like enough for him to tell, even without needing to catch her scent.

She also turned her eyes, gigantic and brightly lit with some unknown force (magic, most likely) on him, surprised and visibly confused, her posture changing just slightly to include nervousness. She was, if not frightened, at least confused by him, so he decided to put her at ease.

Taking a risk, he gave her a quick bow, his hind hooves accidentally kicking a fallen log behind him as he did, "Well met, fair lady." He did not bow deeply enough that she could take him by surprise if she charged him, but when he came back up it seemed to have done the trick, as she had relaxed visibly, the portal winking out of existence behind her. "My name is Sapphrone, of the Black Forest clan."

She bowed as well, her wings opening wide, showing off the fact that they were much, much smaller than those of any Pegasus he'd ever heard of, "I am Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria."

Introductions over, Sapphrone got down to business, "It is good to meet you, but for the safety of my clan I must ask: Come ye in peace?" His hands tightened unconsciously on his bow and arrow, a subtle sign that he was _quite_ serious in his inquiry, and judging by her eyes, she noticed.

Quickly, so as not to insult him or test his patience, she responded, "I come in peace. I'm on a mission, to search for someone."

Sapphrone was curious at that, but many passed through this forest for one reason or another; it alone held perhaps more Nature magic than anywhere else in all of England. "I see. And who might you be looking for?"

"Harry Potter."

With a rustle of leaves, Flash scrambled back to his perch in a tree nearby. She was looking for him? Why?

"And why might you be looking for that one?"

"You know him?" She seemed excited from what Flash could tell, "Could you tell me where he is? He's been lost to us for a long, long time. I'm here to bring him home."

Flash watched as Sapphrone absorbed this and, eventually, came to the decision that he would allow it. "If you search for him, simply stay here, he will find you."

"What? How can you be sure? Wait!" Sapphrone, however, had already started out of the clearing, turning his back on the newcomer in a show of tentative trust that centaurs typically didn't give. Doubtless he'd be reporting this to Starcall, possibly even Crystal, though on his way out he gave Flash a hidden look, as though to say 'Will you approach her? Or leave her?'

And then he was alone with a nervous... Pegacorn? Harry wasn't really sure what to think she was, and his instincts didn't know what she was either, so he did the only thing that a curious kitten could think to do: Get closer.

As he approached silently from the trees, Flash noted that the little... pegacorn seemed to be getting nervous. Maybe she just didn't like being alone? Maybe she was antsy and couldn't sit still for very long, like he couldn't?

It didn't even occur to him that his home seemed very frightening to those that couldn't see in the dark very well.

Still curious, Harry fluttered into the canopy of the tree to her back, so that he was now just above her; this tree still had some leaves, though, so when he landed they fluttered a bit, spooking her.

"Who's there!?" Twilight spun around faster than she had in... well, a few days, actually. Pinkie had a tendency of popping up behind her at her most lax moments.

But it wasn't Pinkie behind her, it was just another spooky tree. Why, oh why did she have to appear in the middle of a dark and spooky forest? Why did it have to be dark? Why couldn't Pinkie be there to laugh away the spooks like she always did?

And she would, too. Even in another world, away from everything she knew, Pinkie would be as upbeat as ever, and just thinking that brought a smile and small, nervous laugh to Twilight's muzzle.

But, as her eyes were brought back to the bare, barely lit branches above her, the trees that seemed to be closing in on her, and the darkness that was trying to suffocate her, she couldn't help but despair that nervous laughter wasn't going to cut it.

But instead of panicking like she wanted to, she huffed irritably and reminded herself that she had _magic!_

She closed her eyes to concentrate, and after a few seconds her magic flared from her horn and now, just above her, there floated a bright, white light, strong enough to light up the clearing and show all the trees as just regular old trees.

Satisfied, she smiled, only to nearly jump out of her skin when she heard a giggle from just behind her, "Eeep!"

Quickly turning around, magic flaring again, she frantically searched for what'd scared her, except there was nothing there. "That's so cool!"

"Who's there!?" The magic clinging to her horn intensified. She may not have been one for very long, but she was still an Alicorn, no disembodied voice was going to scare her!

"It's me!" It sounded young. And actually, there was something else strange about it, like it was a record saying it, but wasn't actually a record, like it was fake and genuine at the same time.

Turning around again, she searched the clearing again, still trying to find where the voice was coming from, "Where are you?"

"Right up here!" She looked up and was met, face-to-paw, with something just as pink as Pinkie Pie.

Of course, being as the foot was practically stepping on her, that meant that her horn had passed literally less than an inch from its skin, a realization that instinctively made her flinch back, the magic around said horn going defensive again. "Err.."

Twilight then had the strangest sense of 'been-here-before' when the creature noticed her looking at it and looked back at her. She still wasn't sure what she was looking at, but while it had huge, bright green eyes, its most striking feature was the fact that it was bright pink, and _floating_! No wings! No obvious magical discharge! Just floating!

It smiled brightly, reminding Twilight of a certain pony that had been on her mind only moments before, "Hi!" That voice still sounded both real and fake at the same time, but the creature didn't seem to notice, instead exuberantly pointing at her Light Guardian, "That's so cool!"

Quickly he whipped around it, poking it and prodding it, as though trying to determine what it was, "Does it follow you around? How do you make it come off your wand like that? Is it magic? Or is it just a Special Ability? Can you teach me how to do that? Do I have to be a pegacorn to do it? Oh! Is that what you are!? A pegacorn!?" The creature zoomed straight into her face, emerald green eyes gazing expectantly into hers, looking like a curious foal and giving her a chilling feeling that she had _actually_ met this world's Pinkie Pie.

"Er, no, I'm an Alicorn." The creature tilted its head curiously.

"What's an Alicorn?"

"I am." She frowned, backing away for a bit of space, "And yes, it is magic."

"Ooh Ooh Ooh! Does that mean you can teach me!?" It waved its foreleg in the air like an excited filly trying to get the teacher's attention. "I'm _really_ good with magic! I bet I could learn it _real_ fast!"

Twilight shook her head, "You would need a horn to do it." She couldn't help but smile at the little 'aww' this caused, but decided to try her luck at getting down to business, "You wouldn't happen to know where Harry Potter is, would you?"

This seemed to make it very happy, "Yeah! Yeah-yeah-yeah! I'm Harry Potter!" The creature seemed very pleased with itself after saying this, still just floating there like some kind of ghost.

Twilight, though frowned, unamused. "No, you're not."

It frowned petulantly, "Yes I am! Watch!" It then fell to the ground, glowing brightly with every color of the rainbow before growing several times its previous size, taking an upright stance while stretching until it was taller than her by at least several hooves.

Then the light faded and in its wake was a smiling, green-eyed human with messy black hair and a faint mark on his forehead.

"See? Told you."

She blinked at the random change for several seconds; she noted that he'd randomly produced clothing to cover his spontaneously human form, for some reason taking on the form of thick robes with an emblem of some animals crawling over a capital 'H'. She was sure it had some significance, but to her it was barely worth notice.

Still frowning slightly, she shook her head, "No no, Harry's an Alicorn, like me. Harry isn't even his real name."

The human blinked curiously at her, his protests dying on his lips at her assertion. "An Alicorn, like you?" She nodded decisively.

"Yes, like me. A horn and wings, just like mine." She nodded at her wings, which if she was honest she _still_ wasn't used to having, let alone using, before another bright flash caught her attention, only for another face to be shoved into hers.  
>"Like this?"<p>

"Eep!" Surprised, Twilight fell back on her rump, wings flaring as she fell, trying to keep her balance.

The reason for her surprise was obvious, though, given that she was now looking at some crazy mirror-image of herself, except in pink. "See? I'm like you now!" The mirror-image pranced in a small circle for a few moments, her grin and coloring making her look far more like Pinkie Pie than Twilight Sparkle, a comparison seared even more strongly into the poor mare's brain when the mimic stopped with a confused look on her face, bright green eyes looking contemplatively off into space, "Although, you said Harry wasn't his real name?" She tilted her head before looking the real Twilight in the eyes, her mane fluttering to the side, its single purple streak mirroring the real Twilight's pink stripe.

Suddenly self-conscious but not wanting to show it, Twilight blew a strand of her mane out of her face before standing, shaking the jitters from her frame, "His name is Prince Emerald Dream, and I've come to retrieve him."

"Aaahh, okay, I guess it's not me, then, 'cause _my_ other name's just Flash." She nodded sagely, as though some great, perplexing mystery had been solved, before brightening considerably again, "But hey! I can totally help you look! I'm _really_ good at looking for things! _Especially_ people!"

Twilight waved the offer off, "No, thank you. But tell me, just what sort of creature _are_ you!? How can you change forms like that, are you a Changeling?"

Flash blinked, returning to his natural form, "Huh? I dunno what a Changeling is," he shrugged, getting a mental image of a deformed, green version of the pony before him before getting all happy again, brightly announcing that, "I'm a Mew!" He took a very roguish stance, grinning while waving a finger, "It's kinda what Mews do. That and whatever else an' stuff."

To Harry that was that, and his sage nod was all that Twilight needed to know that this 'Flash' felt he'd described everything she would need to know.

It wasn't enough, her natural curiosity rearing its ugly head, but then she reminded herself that she had a mission and became all business again. "Right."

Shaking her head, she attempted to think of what might have gone wrong. The first thing she could think of was the simplest, and most likely explanation. She had, quite simply, not taken into account that there might possibly be _more than one_ 'Harry Potter' out there, and without a real way of choosing between them, magic had simply chosen one and led her there.

It wasn't a perfect theory, but it was at least something to work on, and since this particular avenue didn't seem to be producing results, she decided there was no reason to hang around. "Right, okay. I'm sorry, but since the Harry I'm looking for isn't here, I'm going to go home and try again; I'm sure I'll be able to fix the tracking matrix with a bit of tweaking. I'm sorry to have disturbed you Mr. Flash." She flung her head back, discharging a bit of magic to get her portal started before focusing her concentration of forcing it to do what she wanted, causing it to grow.

"Aww, you're leaving? You won't stay for a little while?"

"No, I'm sorry, I really need to find Prince Emerald, it's very important so I can't delay."

"Okay," He sounded so down that she felt kind of bad leaving him behind. "I'll see you later Alicorn lady!"

She smiled as he waved brightly at her, giving him one last nod before turning to her now fully formed portal, "I'm sure you will. Farewell." She then went through the portal, feeling it close behind her as she greeted Princess Luna, who was acting as anchor for her return portal, as well as guard for her as she studied and utilized the magics required for inter-dimensional travel.

Now quite tired, Twilight warmly greeted the elder Alicorn, "Princess Luna."

"Greetings, Twilight Sparkle. I presume you were unsuccessful in your search?" Twilight was glad to see understanding in the elder pony's eyes, but still sighed with disappointment.

"No. I found _A_ Harry Potter, but not the correct one. I did not account for there to be more than one; hopefully it won't take too long to find a way to narrow my search."

"Ooh! Oooh ooh! I can help if you want!"

Twilight froze, seeing Luna's eyes tracking something just over her shoulders, and dreading the next few words from her mouth, "And who might this be?"

Looking over her shoulder, Twilight gasped, hopping away from the pink ball of energy, "You! How did you get here!?" She ignored Luna chuckling lightly behind her in favor of frowning at 'Flash' giggling in front of her, "Did you follow me through my portal? I can't guarantee I can get you back home!"

"Na-uh!" He shook his head vigorously, happily assuring her that he was still fine, or didn't care, Twilight couldn't tell. "I told you! I'm _really_ good at finding people! And! And-and I told you I'd see you later! Right?"

Twilight stuttered in something between mortification at the idea of others meeting this strange creature, and in mortification of what his presence in Equestria might mean; she didn't think it would survive _two_ Pinkie Pies! "W-wha, b-but, w-why, you!"

"My, Twilight Sparkle, such an interesting friend thou hast found."

Dread creeping up on her, Twilight could only switch her gaze back and forth between the two figures near her, until she finally groaned, bowing her head to the inevitable.

She only hoped Equestria would survive the night.

* * *

><p>Just a little not-totally-plot-important-but-still-technically-h appens teaser for a storyline I've been tossing around in my head for a while now. Over the course of the storyline it crosses MLP with about a bazilliondy different things (actually, only three so far that I can remember), one of which obviously being Harry Potter. Mew!Harry being the closest it gets to being crossed with Pokemon, of course.<p>

Also, while it probably doesn't need to be said, if you have objections to MLP:FiM... er... how are you still here? It's been twenty-plus chapters of Harry flying around as a bright pink ball of childish energy, if MLP:FiM is objectionable how could you have stomached the rest of the random stupidity I've spouted out already?

If you _like_ MLP:FiM, however, or at least tolerate it... or even don't care, I hope you at least found this little Omake-like-thing amusing. ^^; Next chapter will be far, far more serious, I'm afraid, and probably the one after that, too. Not much left in this story at this point, here's pulling for me to actually finish it before the next decade. ^^;

Also: Sorry 'bout that.

Alex Ultra: Never Doubt The Pinkie

LATER


	22. Remnants Requiem

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

Angst warning.

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><p>Chapter 21: Remnants Requiem<p>

* * *

><p>After the disaster that was the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, Ron really didn't want to return to the castle; there were a lot of people who were confused or concerned, either wanting answers, or not really sure what they wanted other than to get it from Harry, who was, vitally, missing.<p>

It was only by assuring Ron and all the others that they would search for him and that they would bring him back, that the staff was able to get him, let alone the other students to go back to the castle in peace.

They ate their supper, went to bed in whatever sort of mood Harry's disappearance left them (Malfoy was practically ecstatic, the git), and woke up with him still missing.

For most of the population of the castle it was a curiosity that Harry would run off, especially after just having won the Triwizard Tournament, and when the Daily Prophet ran the news article about the tournament's end, especially that Harry had run off in a previously unknown Animagus form, the exact description of consistig almost entirely of 'unknown pink animal', after shouting, of all things, that he wasn't human, the whispers that usually followed him on a good day doubled or even tripled in intensity.

There were some that speculated that his hidden Animagus was actually some kind of weapon, concocted by Professor Dumbledore to fight off the forces of Darkness or some such. Others suggested that Harry had always been this weird pink creature, and _of course_ that was how he was able to survive the Killing Curse! Some even made the connection between Harry's supposed 'inhumanity' and his 'beastly strength', shown quite clearly through the wrestling matches he would hold with the Skrewts from Hagrid's classes.

Then there was the off student who would mention having seen him, including one who added scandal fuel by claiming to have seen him in the Girls' loo, starting a rumor about him being a Pink Pervert, which was just ridiculous.

Ron, however, just ignored everything he heard, being as everything he heard made him want to growl something filled with anger and... and... something else he couldn't describe. Couldn't those people see how stupid they were being? And why'd Harry have to fly off, anyway? Didn't he leave them on the rope enough that year? Couldn't he have waited for next year before disappearing?

But that wasn't to say he was concerned. True, some part of him in the back of his mind _was_ concerned, scared for his friend, but not for his safety, Harry had proven he could take care of himself. No, he was scared... for...

Honestly, he wasn't sure _why_ he was scared, just that some small part of him worried that Harry leaving was a bad omen, and despite having learned to ignore bad omens thanks to Professor Trelawney handing them out like candy, it still unnerved him.

So after the other schools took their students back, and then after the last few days of term came to an end, including the tests that Ron just didn't have the heart to put into, when Harry still hadn't materialized Ron was all set to go looking for his best mate himself. Though whether he wanted to be sure he was safe or just to yell at him, even if just to find out what the _bloody_ hell he was thinking Ron really didn't know. But he was bound and determined.

So was Hermione, but somehow Ron acknowledged that to be a given. But the Professors wouldn't hear anything of it, and neither would their parents, who all expressed their _understanding_ to the two of them, as though they _knew_ why Hermione and Ron, specifically, would want to find their _friend_. And it wasn't as though they could tell anyone that the three of them held a shared secret, (was it really a secret anymore?) or that, whether Hermione felt it or not, Ron just knew, _knew_ somehow that Harry being missing was, somehow, a harbinger of Doom. That having Harry nearby kept everyone safe. Not that a lot of people would really question the sentiment, considering the way everyone considered him a hero when he was _one_, but since he couldn't say so, especially not if he didn't want to sound... weird, or crazy, or like Trelawney was rubbing off on him, they instead swallowed their arguments and got on the train like good little children.

Really, though, once they were moving, once they were away from the castle grounds... leaving felt easier.

Harry wasn't there and that felt strange, but Neville was, and Hermione and Ginny and even Luna were there, Luna even joining he and Neville for a game of Exploding Snap (which annoyed Hermione, who was trying to read), and for a few moments (hours?) Ron was able to ignore the fact that Harry was missing.

And when he and his... siblings..? Got home, it suddenly felt no different than previous years. Harry was with his relatives, and perhaps later in the summer he would come over and stay with them for a while.

Professor Dumbledore would find him, and one day show up on the Weasley Doorstep (or floo... step?) with Harry in tow and everything would be back to normal.

But a week went by and there still was no word; not from Dumbledore, not from Harry, not even from the Ministry or the Prophet.

And then another week went by and Ron started to get upset again. If asked he'd deny it to begin with, and if needled about it he'd say he wasn't worried at first and that it'd grown on him over a few days.

But the truth was that it'd been a sudden thing. One day he'd been unconcerned, taking the silence as par for course, even though it very much wasn't; then the next moment he'd had something on the course of a panic attack and hidden in a closet for almost an hour, until the twins had found him and practically dragged him outside for a game of Quidditch.

He'd claimed that he'd lost a sock and had been looking for it, but he knew, and could see it in their eyes, that he was a terrible liar and they saw right through him. At the time he was upset that they'd dragged him out on a broom when all he wanted to do was go back to the closet, but after he cooled down he would be glad they had.

It hadn't taken his mind off of anything, if anything the activity let him think more silently without being stuffed up with old clothes that were now too small for him.

He even thought about confiding in the twins about what had suddenly bothered him, but decided not to tell them. It was too embarrassing, maybe a bit too scary, and frankly he still didn't know what to think about it even days later.

But he still wasn't scared for Harry in any way, shape or form, no, he was scared for _himself_.

Over the years since he and his friends had brewed and taken that potion, he'd watched his best mate... become a little bit different.

At first he hadn't really noticed, being as Harry had already been a bit more upbeat than a lot of wizarding children; it was easy to understand, magic was new to him just like it was to a Muggleborn, so it took a few years for the newness of it to wear off.

Harry just kept some of that... newness a bit longer than most. Even Hermione had gotten into the stride of things somewhere during their third year, but Harry just sort of... didn't. He kept that sort of bubbly enthusiasm that most students lost somewhere on the way.

Ron noticed, but he wrote it off as nervousness. That whole year he was being hunted by a madman, after all, and though he knew _he'd_ be a nervous wreck Harry had been downright chipper, and Ron had excused it as Harry bottling everything up and hiding how scared he really was.

Er, well, he didn't really think that deeply on it, just sort of naturally accepted and ignored it. It wasn't quite normal, but neither was Harry and even less so was Harry's life, so he'd let it go.

Then the madman turned out to be a good guy and Harry had an excuse to be chipper, while Ron was distracted with the mind-breaking revelation that he'd been sharing a bed with a grown man... which _still_ gave him shivers up his spine, so he hadn't really been in any state of mind to note Harry's abnormalness.

Then that summer Ron had noted that Harry had some... _strange_ ideas. About who he was, about what he should do, and Ron still ignored it. Who was he to judge how Harry thought of Muggles? Sure, Ron himself didn't think of Muggles as being all that interesting, but his own father practically worshipped them so Ron had decided to ignore the whole thing.

Then came the Triwizard Tournament. From the very beginning that had been a disaster. If he hadn't been so accustomed to Harry having weird ideas by that point, Ron might have suspected that Harry had used the whole 'the school has an underground maze' thing as a distraction so he could put his name in the goblet.

Perhaps he had, though something still told him that wasn't how his name got in there. Let alone _twice_. Ron may not have really understood how the Goblet worked, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't let someone put their name in _twice_, so there was definitely something wrong, and no shortage of theories as to what that might have been. Everything from someone else putting Harry's name in, to Harry somehow tricking Dumbledore's Age Line; from Dumbledore putting Harry's name in the Goblet himself, or Harry simply Apparating across the line (Hermione's personal favorite), all the way to Harry simply doing it because he was, in fact old enough to cross the Age Line. This last theory was revived with the revelation that Harry was some kind of creature, let alone a magical creature, as some of those that supposed he'd always been one suggested he actually was hundreds of years old, and that's why he was so powerful as to be able to survive a Killing Curse, but it made him weak and that was why he had to pretend to be a child for so long.

While the Tournament was going on, Harry's behavior became more and more bizarre, but Ron still ignored it... for a while. It wasn't until it was almost time for the third task that Ron began to notice just how bizarre Harry was becoming.

Harry spent more and more time away from the castle. He started giving people looks that were somewhere between longing and fear. He'd even started seeming more and more uncomfortable around Hermione, while looking to Ron for backup, which Ron didn't know how to give or why he should. And then, just before the task, Harry had outright started avoiding _everyone_, even them, and when he came back he was acting like a stranger, like he was only visiting for the Tournament and would be perfectly happy _staying_ away.

Then Harry had shouted about not being human and it all snapped into place for Ron. He took all the signs and put them together, forming the frightening image of his best friend slowly losing his humanity, even looking to Ron for help, and then when Ron didn't understand, when Ron couldn't help, he gave up and just... left.

And it wasn't the nagging feeling that he could have kept Harry from running away by putting the pieces together faster, by paying more attention or in some other way _helping_, it was much closer to the fact that finally noticing _this_ trend let him see a similar trend in his _other_ friend: Hermione had admitted she liked her other form, and now that he was looking he was noticing things, _little_ things that she'd started doing differently.

It wasn't much, and for Hermione it wasn't even conclusive, but it was enough to clench his chest in a cold grip of _dread_ so sharp that he swore his heart stopped, and for several seconds he couldn't breathe. It had been enough to drive him in the early morning from his bed to the closet that he had at one time shared with Percy, before the elder Weasley had insisted on a solo bedroom so he could concentrate on _work_.

_What if that happened to him!?_

He'd have to have been stupid not to see the signs: Almost like Harry, Ron had taken a sudden, inexplicable liking to the Skrewts. He'd taken to growling when he was angry or especially when he was feeling protective of his friends, usually in Malfoy's presence.

And the _roar_, by Merlin the roaring, like some kind of angry beast he wanted to roar, but thought it'd make him seem stupid so he held it back and it came out as some sort of choking sound instead.

Something in the back of his mind told him he'd have done those sorts of things anyway, and calling it a 'roar' was stupid when it was just as easily called a 'loud, angry shout', but in his spiraling thoughts he couldn't drive the fear away, and even if he _did_ allow such counterarguments, how could he explain his sudden affinity for fire? How could he explain how unconcerned he was with getting burns from the Skrewts or even the Dragons? How could he properly explain how terrified he was of being taken to the bottom of the lake not, as most, because he might drown, but because the lake was filled with _water_? How he'd gladly take being strapped to a cloud over being strapped to the bottom of a lake?

Even a glacier felt like it'd be better than a lake, so long as it didn't melt on him. And realizing that, feeling the truth of it, only made him feel _worse_.

What if, one day, Ron woke up to realize that he wasn't really human anymore? That he would just get up, shake himself off, and go chasing down horses for breakfast or something?

He'd always thought of having an Animagus form as being a wizard that, sort of... _wore_ the form of an animal. That the animal wasn't real, just a different form the wizard could take whenever he wanted. Harry being stuck was kind of strange, but he was still essentially 'Harry', so it was alright. Hermione was still just Hermione, even when she was small and furry, even if she did get a bit more playful in that form, but then she'd done something so strange, something so un-Hermione'ish as to _tackle_ a professor, even to protect Harry, and it had been like seeing her tackle Harry back at the Leaky Cauldron. And the look in her eyes while Harry was missing, like the look of a trapped animal that he was sure he'd shared, and he knew it was affecting her, too.

And if the twins hadn't found him, intending to drag him down to breakfast, hadn't heard his lie and gotten that look in their eyes, _a look their mother got sometimes_, that look that said they knew something they weren't telling him. If they hadn't dragged him outside for a quick game with Ginny before breakfast, if they hadn't _forced him to get some fresh air_, he might have...

He might not have come out. Maybe their mum would have found him and finally dragged an explanation from him. Maybe he would have rushed to Dumbledore and _demand_ that the elder wizard _fix him_. Maybe he would have just broken down, or...

He had no idea, and by the time their game was over and their mother was shouting at them to get back inside before their breakfast got cold, by the time the twins had squeezed his shoulders knowingly, acting like they were playfully pushing him inside, he'd gone through a hundred different things he might have done, each more silly and stupid and not-thought-out than the last.

He let his family happen to him at breakfast. Let their presence assure him that everything was normal.

Bill was coming for a visit tomorrow; it would only be a day before Gringotts was sending him off to Tasmania, and Percy had let slip that some of the Dragon Handlers from the Romanian reserve were being sent to Tunisia to investigate some sightings of dragons snatching goats from the local shepherds. Oh, and the Ministry was in an uproar over some stupid thing again, just like they always were. Something about forged permits for illegal International Apparition, which Percy was swift to assure everyone was not just highly dangerous but also very illegal, at least in Britain; it was for the traveler's own good, after all, Apparition over the ocean was not only taxing, but a mistake would force two or possibly even more nations to send out Aurors to fix a Splinching across the English Channel.

Ron had never Splinched himself before, but for possibly the first time in memory he'd found himself agreeing with his abrasive older brother, International Splinching sounded _painful_ and he was glad to know there was a rule against it before he thought to try it himself.

"Yes, well, you'll learn all the laws regarding Apparition when you apply for a license, you'll hear about that and all the others there." Percy had waved off Ron's concerns, but those who were paying attention (the twins, mostly) noted that Percy seemed pleased with Ron's comment, for once.

Then, contrary to what he'd expected, the twins never asked why he was upset. He'd thought they would needle it out of him, but they continued on like normal, going back to their pranks and whatever it was they got up to in their bedroom, with bangs and whizzes erupting at all times of the day, yet still as always managing to get their homework done. Percy had gone back to work, Bill had come and gone without so much as a second look despite the odd second look from his youngest brother, and perhaps for the first time Ron had decided to do some of his homework without having to be forced into it, if only to get his mind off of his thoughts.

He didn't even try to practice his transformation that summer, had privately decided not to, and when Harry never came back, never showed up in their fire or at his window like he half expected, Ron simply shrugged and went back to his life. He ignored any niggling concern that tried to crawl up his neck, and any time Hermione tried to talk about it in letter, he would simply brush it off.

Harry would come back when he was ready. The professors would find him. He was _fine_. Maybe he was just visiting Brazil like he said he would? Ron wouldn't have minded a proper vacation.

And the more he avoided the topic, the more he denied its existence, the more in-control he felt.

The whole family moved to Number 12 Grimmauld Place soon after that, along with a whole bunch of others, apparently because of 'The Order of the Phoenix', which mostly meant it was because of Dumbledore. Ron had half expected Harry to be there, but he wasn't. He asked about Hermione, who lived with Muggles and was therefore vulnerable, and soon after that she'd joined them, asking about Harry and seeming very disappointed with the answer she got.

The 'Order' had meetings, and from what he could tell the bulk of them seemed to come down to 'things are getting worse, and Harry's still missing', though Ron and the others felt a bit more alarm when they'd heard that the Ministry had been attacked, _broken in to_, in the middle of the night. No one would tell them exactly _why_ it'd been attacked, but apparently someone was in St. Mungo's for it, and everyone was fairly sure it was because of Voldemort that the attack had taken place.

Ron got a bad feeling about it, but it wasn't his problem, and the adults were adamant about not telling them anything, so he didn't ask, and eventually stopped paying attention when the twins did it for him.

Hermione didn't stop, though. Well, she didn't so much 'ask' as 'read'; everything she could get her hands on, about what the Ministry might have that Voldemort would want, what laws were being debated that he might want to influence, and a whole bunch of stuff that Ron didn't even understand, let alone remember. She read the Prophet, both new and old. She read books, on law, on artifacts, on magic, on history, on whatever she could get her hands on. She drove herself to exhaustion until Ron's mum stopped her and forced her to help them work on cleaning up the old house.

Most telling of all the adults, however, was Sirius. The man wasn't doing well. Everyone with a pair of eyes could tell that he was anxious, nervous, and constantly telling how he wanted to be out there _looking for Harry_.

But more than that, Ron saw his eyes; that nervous, angry, anticipatory look in his eyes, the same look that Harry'd had for a little while, like he was _trapped_ with _no way _out. Like there was something he _needed_ to do but they _wouldn't let him_. And then there was Kreacher, who didn't just make life hard on everyone but seemed to make it even harder for Sirius; sometimes obviously on purpose, but at other times seemingly without even realizing he was doing so.

Dumbledore had stopped looking anyone in the eye unless he was telling them something, and a lot of the Order members had started holding entire conversations from beside or behind the man. The pressure was on, even without any information Ron could tell that, and a lot of people were showing up after days of being missing with bags under their eyes or a fresh wound. One time a man whose name Ron didn't remember had shown up babbling uncontrollably, and it had taken three days for him to start talking properly again. Everyone said he'd just been hit with a Babbling Hex, which Ron accepted, but Babbling Hexes only lasted for as long as it took to dispel them, they didn't _linger_ like that, and it only made Ron more scared.

Scared and, if he was honest, a bit snappish, as Hermione found out while she was talking about what she'd found in an old Prophet.

Frustrated and angry, he'd snapped at her, "Hermione just knock it off!"

She'd seem momentarily perplexed, blinking at Ron's shout as though it'd gotten in her eyes, "What? Ron?"

"Just leave it alone! He ran off, leave him to it! It wouldn't be the first time!"

"But Ron, we-"

"No, 'Mione, just, just stop it." Breathing hard, he'd tried to take a breath but all that came out was a low growl, "If he wants to come back, then he'll just drop right in like he always does, and then maybe everything'll be the same again but they won't, it _can't_ be the same!"

"But, but he needs us.."

An image flashed across his eyes then, and if anything Ron's angry grimace only got worse, "Didn't stop you before." It was obvious to him that she didn't understand, with the way her eyes were so wide and her mouth couldn't think of any words to say, so he thought of some for her, "You didn't listen," He grimaced when his mind whispered that _he hadn't either_, "Didn't get it."

"What d'you mean..." But he didn't answer, having already stormed his way down the hall, not looking back to see how she looked after his little tirade, too caught up in what he was thinking and feeling to even think about apologizing like he knew he _should_ have.

When the twins found him, and there was no way they _couldn't_ have, they shamed him by telling him they'd found Hermione crying, and used that as ammo to finally get out of him what was _really_ bothering him. It wasn't because Hermione was nosy, or trying too hard, or had anything _at all_ to do with what was bothering him, and they knew it, and they were going to get an explanation out of him because they'd let him be too long.

He wasn't that easy of a nut to crack, though, stubborn as he was. If it'd been anyone but the twins, even Bill or Charlie, there probably wouldn't have been much chance of getting anything out of him at all, but after a whole lot of _gentle negotiations_ and the sort of things that only close siblings could understand, they finally got him to open up a bit.

"He looked a lot like Sirius..."

"What?" George looked perplexed for a moment, looking to his twin for support before turning to his other brother, "How d'you mean?"

"Like," Ron scowled, still not looking anyone in the eye, the images flashing around in the back of his mind, "Like how he looks at the wall like it did something wrong. Or when Dumbledore says he's _safe_ here, or any time Kreacher talks about his mum. Like when he says he's alright, but he's not. Harry did all the same things." He snarled dangerously with self-loathing, throwing an arm out in his anger, nearly knocking over a side table set beside the chair the twins had forced him into, "And we didn't even _ask!_ We just assumed he was nervous, or-"

He clammed up, then, straightening up and turning the other way, "If he wants to go, that's _his_ problem. Let him."

The twins were silent for a moment after that, and Ron was fine with leaving it that way, but eventually, after sharing another look, Fred approached him, "Ron, it's not your fault."

"Of course it isn't!" He didn't mean to snarl like that, and the twins knew him well enough not to take it too seriously.

Fred squared his shoulders before saying again, "It's not your fault, and it isn't Hermione's either, you-"

"_Yes it is!_" Fred took a step back and George stood a little taller, too, a show that they would deal with him if he couldn't keep under control. "He was practically _screaming_ it! He was _avoiding_ everybody else! But I," he faltered, why did all his problems have to revolve around Harry, anyway? "It don't matter anyway, you heard him. He's 'not human anymore'; even if he comes back, it won't really be him, so he can just _stay_ gone..."

He stayed like that for a few seconds, breathing hard until George finally tried to say something, eyes uncertain, "Ron..." Ron turned his full attention on his older brother, who looked almost _scared_ for a moment before lamely finishing, "It's not really that bad..."

Ron just shook his head and left, and the twins didn't even try to stop him.

* * *

><p>She couldn't stand it.<p>

It had always been Harry that had held the three of them together, and now it was Harry that was driving them apart, and she just couldn't stand it.

After her and Ron's argument, or rather after Ron's explosion, she had practically _ran_ to the Black family library, running almost blindly past chairs, tables and bookshelves that she barely saw past bleary, tear-filled eyes.

She and Ron had _always_ fought over one thing or another, they'd even fought over Harry before, but without Harry there, with Ron being the only real friend she had left, and after having spent so much _energy_ worrying over Harry, trying to think of some way of getting him back, of trying to solve what was wrong with the world at large, with just trying to _hold on_, she just didn't think she could _take it_ any more.

When Ron had started yelling at her, she'd been so shocked; she was so sure that he was just as worried as she was, just that he wasn't sure what to do about it. She didn't even remember what she'd been talking about before he'd exploded, just that for several seconds she'd been frozen, rooted to her spot as a cold shock washed over her.

And then, somehow, he'd made the entire thing out to be _her fault;_ and though she wanted to deny it, in his eyes she saw that he, at least on some level, _believed_ it. That she was the reason he'd left. That she'd done something or missed something or not done something, and even if it wasn't true, even if she had nothing to do with it; Harry'd been her first real friend.

He'd been her knight in shining armor; she'd told him things she'd never told anyone, stuck her neck out for him, had him stick his neck out for her. He'd actually _tried_ to be her friend, to _stay_ her friend, and even just the _suggestion_ that she might have driven him away somehow, even if she couldn't fathom how, filled her with a cold feeling that chilled her to the bone.

As her friend he overshadowed any other reason for wanting him back. He was her friend, her best friend, and perhaps her _only_ friend, and she would overturn the ocean and vanish a mountain if it meant she could find him; but somehow, over all the other things that she was feeling about her friend being missing, about being _in danger_, there was something especially frightening about him being gone.

Just acknowledging the idea of Harry being gone felt like acknowledging that Voldemort might be just behind her. She didn't feel _safe_ with him gone, like even if it was just _her_ world, the world was outright _doomed_ without Harry in it. Harry being missing made her feel _cold_, empty and hopeless, and she'd _thought_ that Ron might understand that, might know what she was feeling because, even if just for a moment, he'd felt it too.

Every time she felt that way, like there was a claw around her heart waiting to squeeze it a little too hard, she would remember Ron's face when Harry nearly died. He'd looked like he'd seen Death itself, and that he'd gladly take on a demented madman right then if that's what it took. Even his brothers said they'd never seen Ron act like that, and would have expected a far quieter reaction from him.

They'd expected him to say 'Mate, you don't look so good' and drag him back to bed. They'd have expected him to act like their dense younger brother, not like a mother about to lose her child, screaming and demanding that someone help.

So when that cold dread would take hold, she would take solace that she wasn't the only one that felt that way. When she was concerned for her friend, she was sure that Ron was, too. But when Ron said what he said, 'Just leave it alone', 'he ran off', 'it _can't_ be the same', it tore at her, every word.

And after crying for Merlin knows how long, she thought he might be right. About _all_ of it, even about it being her fault, and she really just... wanted to disappear. To never come back, or to run out there right now and find Harry even if she couldn't bring him back; she'd let him stay gone so long as she knew where he was, so long as he knew she still wanted him around, no matter what was wrong, or why he'd gone.

And eventually, as she knew would happen sooner or later, someone found her. Or two someones, though she could barely see the twin blurs through bloodshot eyes; she backed away at first, for some reason afraid of them before she accepted their presence and that she wasn't going to make them go away.

Here came the part where someone came to comfort the crying girl, and for once she wondered if she really wanted it; why couldn't she just be left alone to bottle it up like boys did, or to just cry it all out in peace?

And she knew they were there to apologize for Ron, she just didn't know if she wanted to hear it, not like she had any choice.

She didn't know which of them started; she could barely see them, let alone tell them apart, but the first thing that one of them said was "He's scared."

Her breathing hitched at that, she hadn't expected to hear that; had actually been all set to hear 'We're sorry for our brother' or some nonsense that she would believe but wouldn't really change anything. They'd still be fighting, it still wouldn't make any sense to her, and she still wouldn't know how to fix it or even if she _could_.

But she didn't know what to say to _that_. She wanted to hear it, and she knew it to be true, had _hoped_ it was true, but at the same time she didn't want to hear it; she didn't even want to _think_ too hard about it. So she just sat there, shaking but rigid and letting the twins say what they would.

One of them forced a hand through his hair, sighing with a grunt, as though what he was saying was hard to say, "He's blaming himself, more than you or even Harry, and he's scared, of that, and maybe..."

The other twin took over when the first trailed off, "Just... don't take him too seriously. He's..." he shook his head, "Just frustrated."

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath, closing her eyes, "He's right, though." There was a note of desperate humor in her voice, which made it sound strange even to herself.

"Whut?"

"Harry'll come back when he wants. It won't do any good trying to find him, or get him to come back."

She didn't dare try to see their faces when she said this, afraid to see disappointment from them, though she stood anyway, almost in defiance. She didn't expect an arm around her shoulders, "If you say so, Hermione."

"What say we go to the kitchen and get something to drink? Preferably with sugar in it!"

She smiled, though she tried not to relax _too_ much on the way to the kitchen. But after Mrs. Weasley had whipped up a Chamomile tea and with some assurances to her and Ginny, Hermione collapsed into a bed and slept the rest of the day away.

The rest of the summer she spent trying to make sense of the _other_ happenings in Britain. It was fairly clear that even if Voldemort hadn't actually returned (which he had!), that there was definitely a group of people out there acting as though he had. Terrorizing the populace while waging what could only be described as a small war; against the ministry, against the populace, against anyone that would stand up to them; sometimes attacking seemingly at random with little to no reason, other times with chilling intent. Such as when they attacked Azkaban, imprisoning the aurors on duty and freeing a bunch of the prisoners, most of whom had been Voldemort supporters before being imprisoned in the first place.

Then it came time for them to get their books and supplies for the new semester, and though she and at the least Ginny were nervous to go out into public, Hermione was at least buoyed emotionally when Ron, in his awkward way apologized, saying he 'didn't mean to shout', and telling her it wasn't really her fault.

She'd get the full story out of him later, she'd decided; first came the nerve wracking but ultimately uneventful trip to Diagon Alley, when she and the others all got what they needed for the next year, which she came to realize, after having spent the whole summer looking up laws and spells and history; all forms of things that just seemed so very important at the time, that this was their O.W.L.s year and she hadn't done any studying _at all_, so the rest of her time before they actually left for school was spent studying.

It was a nice thing to focus on when the adults heard that Diagon Alley had been hit somehow; a very nice distraction. It didn't help that she couldn't help but to think about her parents, and how they were in danger and arguably didn't even know it.

She wanted them to leave the country for a while. She didn't want them going anywhere in case they were followed. She wanted them to hide with her at Grimmauld Place, but she didn't want them exposed to the place. She wanted her parents _there_ or to _be there_ with them, her family, especially with all the Weasleys being family together. Tonks and Ginny tried to comfort her, but it just wasn't the same.

She figured, ultimately, so long as there was no reason for them to be targeted, they wouldn't be. She was Harry's friend, so there automatically _was_ a reason, but maybe with Harry being missing they would forget about her, and therefore them? She hoped so, and if so there might be _some_ kind of silver lining to Harry disappearing.

Her concerns didn't go unheard, though, and the day before they were to board the Hogwarts Express, Professor Dumbledore showed her the charms that the parents and families of Muggleborns had been given that, when broken, would activate a one-way portkey to St. Mungo's. All one had to do was snap it or crush it or whatever would work and they would be out of the way, and Professor Dumbledore had an armful of very relieved young witch for several moments thanking him over and over before she was sent to bed.

Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters had several visible Aurors stationed about, most of whom boarded the train before it set off, and Hermione saw at least one broom outside following them, but still no Harry.

They got to the school to discover that there was a new, unpleasant addition to the staff: _Undersecretary_ Dolores Umbridge, who started off the school year with a great, big, loud, obnoxious speech about how the Ministry was so _very_ concerned with the quality of education at Hogwarts, of how _lies_ would not be tolerated (Hermione resisted the urge to hiss her displeasure), and of how they, during her O.W.L. Year no less, would essentially not be learning anything.

And with that _Illustrious_ start, Undersecretary Umbridge proceeded to make doubly sure that the students were either too nervous or too angry to learn anything, that the curriculum was too... absent to be worth learning, and that those students that most needed the comfort of the safety of Hogwarts felt no comfort or safety in Hogwarts.

She also constantly sniped at Professor Dumbledore, and really any other Professor she happened to be needling that hour, and at one point nearly incited a riot, after which she'd been heard to say that she would simply have had to expel any rioters; and that especially bad offenders would have been sent to Azkaban, which Ministerial possession of was a joke in the first place.

But despite all the problems and distractions, despite that Harry still hadn't magically appeared among them, despite that the atmosphere of Hogwarts had descended to somewhere near what Hermione supposed an internment camp must feel like, education went on. And somehow, impossibly, they got used to the routine of school again.

O.W.L.s were basically a joke with the Ministry's restrictions, but they were still just as important and Hermione still studied just as hard as ever, spending a lot of time in the library with other students just reading and reviewing, especially since any sort of practical application had been taken from them.

And when Ron had entered one day, obviously looking for her, no one noticed, as he came to drag her back to the Common Room if he thought she'd spent too much time reading. They had a short argument about how she should get some sleep and maybe actually _eat something_ every once in a while, an argument she knew she was losing (again), but when she was just about ready to leave on her own, he'd reached over and whispered in her ear.

"Let's go find Harry."

She straightened, eyes wide for a few seconds, looking into his eyes, eyes which were determined and wouldn't take no for an answer, but this time he knew he wouldn't _get_ no for an answer.

She slumped over, "Okay, I'm coming." And Ron helped her pick up her things before Madame Pince came over to hiss at them, she went to put everything away and, with the sort of practice that they'd gained from sneaking through the castle over the years, they made their way outside, to the grounds, and to the Forbidden Forest.

They were somehow sure they'd be the ones to find him.

* * *

><p>End Chapter 21<p>

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><p>I like it how spell-check insists 'newness' is a word but 'wizarding' isn't. Also: Setsuno, the last chapter wasn't even up 10 minutes and you'd already reviewed. XD That's gotta be some kind of record.<p>

Anyway, this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. Not just because it was originally going to be a part of the previous chapter; Hermione and Ron's solo time was always meant to be a part of the story, and its importance meant it could only be its own chapter. But really, the reason it gave me so much trouble, despite its importance, is because it's almost _all_ angst.

I suck at angst. I'm still not sure this is any good, and I kept having false starts mostly _because_ of the angst that I knew was coming. And it's not over.

That said, there's really only about two, possibly three more chapters in this story, tops. The end is coming, I just hope it's good enough to cap this story off. Here's hoping.

Also, to those that expressed their enjoyment of the part-omake-part-possible-story-teaser from last chapter, I'm so happy so many people liked it! ^^v To be honest, that particular story-ish-line doesn't really have a point other than possible Mew!Harry fun in the ponyverse, so if it ever got its own entry (not till after this story is finished, most likely, especially given how close it is) it would specifically be in the form of a two-or-three-shot, with the main story line being its own thing.

And as to the 'Emerald Dreams' character/version-of-Harry? It mostly started with an amusing mental image of a 'rumor' running around Surrey of a 'local Unicorn', and sort of grew from there. :D I'll let you all hammer that one out in your minds for now, though I wouldn't mind seeing a 'Unicorn in Surrey' story in the meantime. Maybe it'll even be better than mine? :P

Though, on that note, my favorite HP/MLP cross is, easily, Harry Leferts' 'The Wizard and the Lonely Princess', for all the right reasons. I probably don't have any room to complain about an update taking a while for it, but even un-updated it's a worthwhile read (unless equines make your eyes pop out and cause blood to run from your ears in rage).

Anyways, ta-ta for now!

Alex Ultra: Amusing Mental Images Make My World Go Round

LATER


	23. A Wild Pokemon Appears

Disclaimer: What can I say? I don't own it.

Summary: Harry decides he wants to try Animagi, and persuades Hermione to help... this changes them... a lot.

Five pages of reviews _just_ for the last chapter? Amazing! And while a few people expressed concern for the solid wall of angst that was last chapter, a lot more said they liked, so it sounds like I did it at least mostly right. ^^;

Also: Thespurgin gets a cookie. :D

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><p>Chapter 22: A Wild Pokemon Appears<p>

* * *

><p>As it turned out, 'looking for' and 'finding' were two very, very different things.<p>

Upon deciding to look for Harry in the Forbidden Forest, Ron and Hermione spent almost three very stressful hours outside, in the dark, among the trees and creatures of the forest looking for someone that may not have even been there.

Ron took the lead most of the time, his _Lumos_ providing enough light to see by while Hermione was ready with a spell just in case something jumped out at them.

But finally, after nearly jumping out of her skin for what must have been the hundredth time, Hermione despaired, "Oh this is hopeless!"

Ron disagreed, "C'mon, 'Mione, he's around here, we jus' gotta keep lookin." He didn't look back at her to see her face, pointedly using the time to hack away at some branches with a muttered _Diffindo_, renewing his _Lumos_ afterward. "He can't hide forever."

Hermione sighed at that, following silently after Ron for several seconds, stepping over a boulder in their path before sighing again, "Ron, it's past curfew, we've been out here for _hours_. We can try again later."

"_No!_" Ron still refused to look back, eyes still sharp, gazing at the edge of the darkness just beyond his light's reach, "He's here! We're going to take him to Hogwarts!"

"But-"

"He can't hide forever, Hermione!" Finally, as though reaching the end of his patience, Ron turned around to face Hermione with angry, yet inexplicably tired eyes, "He can't hide from the world! He can't hide from who he is!" Hermione blinked several times as Ron breathed, obviously upset, "He can't hide from _us_!"

Hermione paled, and Ron gnashed his teeth. "We're his friends! He can't just _run away_ and expect us not to come after him!" Hermione continued to pale now shaking, as Ron continued to shout, "If he thinks we're just gonna let him go off forever, just _leave_, he's got another thing coming. He's our mate, and we're his, and _mates stick together!_ We're gonna get him _back_ Hermione!"

"Ruh-Ro-Ron-" Now Hermione was pale, shaking, and pointing at him. And while she had exhibited many forms of reaction when Ron shouted at her in the past, which was perhaps a sad commentary on their friendship, this was a new one.  
>"What? Is somethi-" Finally getting the message, Ron looked over his shoulder.<p>

And promptly screamed like a little girl, leaping forward at Hermione, who joined him in screaming and running as a seven foot tall Acromantula squealed its displeasure over its prey getting away. It didn't have much hope of catching the smaller one on its own, as that one was obviously alert enough to have seen it, but the larger, louder, stupid one had gotten away just at the last possible moment.

Ah well, they'd be caught soon; its podmates had the humans surrounded, so it wasn't as though they'd be getting far, and with how hungry the giant spiders had been getting recently, they would take just about anything.

So it wasn't surprising when another spider dropped out of the trees just in front of the screaming humans forcing them to scramble to a stop, the larger one falling over, forcing the smaller one to pull it up before it could be skewered.

Of course Ron knew, logically, that this meant they were buggered. They were now surrounded, by _spiders_ of all things, and were going to be eaten. It was a surprisingly calm thing, this realization, although his body was still freaking out, pushing so hard to get away that he thought his heart might leap out of his chest. It was hard enough to concentrate on keeping magic going to his wand to power his _Lumos_, let alone try to figure out exactly how many spiders they were now surrounded by.

Wait. _Magic!_ How could he forget that!?

Swiftly he turned on the nearest one, shouting "_DIFFINDO!_" as loudly as he could manage, somehow, impossibly hitting it in the eyes which caused it to shriek and jump away. In the opening Hermione just managed to dart off and Ron was going to follow her, except that two spiders, one the blinded one and the other having come from _somewhere_ closed ranks, even more angry than before.

In the back of his mind, Ron was glad Hermione had gotten away, but resolved that he wasn't going to go down easily, trying his best to think of any spells he could remember that would help him in this situation. The adrenaline helped.

"_BOMBARDA!_" Hermione squeaked as she ducked beneath another spider, hearing Ron's spellwork behind her; she barely had time to spare thinking about her friend, as she now had her own problems in the form of a pair of the eight-legged freaks that had practically landed on her from behind.

'_I'm never making fun of Ron's arachnophobia again!_' So thinking she, in a panic, looked for anything, _anything_ that might let her get away when she spotted a small hole at the base of a tree; she couldn't be certain, as it was so dark and the only light came from Ron's blasting spells, but it was promising enough to drive her forward, with the hope that it would be too small for the spiders to fit and _maybe they'd leave her alone?_

Not really thinking about it, Hermione shrank into her other form and dove between the grabbing legs of her pursuers.

She didn't make it though, as one of them managed to put a leg down right on her face causing her to cry out in fear.

Nearby Ron, rather satisfactorily, had found himself at a stalemate with the spiders; once he'd starting throwing curses out like a man possessed the spiders had developed a sense of self-preservation and given him a bit of space. Every once in a while one would test his defense, a frightening thing at the best of times but outright terrifying coming from spiders in the dark, but the adrenaline made him jumpy and he had little against handing out explosions like Fred and George handed out candy.

Candy that exploded.

"_VEE!_" But when Ron heard Hermione cry out in fear his eyes snapped up to see her, in animal form, with her head held against the ground by one hairy leg, struggling to get a grip against the ground.

Seeing his last friend in mortal peril, Ron lost it, snarling "_HERMIONE!_" before leaping at the offender, barely even thinking about that snarling voice in the back of his head, a voice that _whispered_ things to him, letting instinct take control for once; and in the ten yards between them, with adrenaline, fear and anger mixing like some kind of lethal cocktail in his blood, Ron's body changed for the first time in nearly a year.

The transformation brought with it a feeling of _power!_ And power was exactly what he needed, so he didn't even _think_ about what might happen, what it might mean and just let it happen, so that by the time he landed on the spider that was about to bite his friend, he bowled it over with one mighty paw, barely taking the time to notice the satisfactory _squelch_ he felt when it impacted the rocks on its other side.

He didn't stop to notice Hermione scampering off, barely took a moment to swat the other spider that had looked to give her chase; the rest of them was on his tail, and though the rules had obviously changed with his transformation (which, frustratingly, still wasn't _complete_, leaving his head and part of his rump still unchanged, making him feel oddly lumpy), they had sensed an opportunity when he'd turned his back to them and were now closing in.

Hermione, meanwhile, had made it into the space beneath the tree, where she curled up and whimpered pathetically.

The entire experience so far had been so shocking, so _crazy_! Was this what her boys had had to deal with in second year? They'd gone all the way to the _nest_ of these things!? Were they _suicidal!?_

Right now she just wanted to go back to Hogwarts. She _knew_ they'd been out too long, carrying around a great spot of light that probably attracted things for miles around, every once in a while shouting for Harry like _idiots_. The _Point Me_ charm was useless, and if Harry _was_ out in the forest he obviously didn't want to be found. What made the two of _them_ think they could find him if a group of well trained wizards and witches couldn't find him for _months_?

They were fools, and now they were going to pay the price. Hermione could still hear Ron fighting outside, his voice messy and garbled as though it couldn't decide on what kind of noises to make, but she knew he couldn't fight forever. Sooner or later he would get tired. Especially as he now didn't have his wand, and so had to rely on whatever strength his other form had.

Curiously she looked out to where Ron was still fighting; she could see that he was indeed tiring, and his face still hadn't transformed, so although his paws dealt a great amount of damage on their own, he couldn't _bite_ them as he might have been able to if he were completely changed. His animal instincts were warring with his instinct to protect his face and he was flagging.

She was just getting ready to leap out to help him when she heard a whisper from nearby, '_Behind you._'

Spinning in place, Hermione squeaked when she saw the gnashing maw of a giant spider just inches from her tail; it had dug through the dirt on the other side of the tree and with all the noise she hadn't noticed. Quickly she jumped away and back out into the open.

Instinctively knowing that inaction would leave her dead, Hermione caught her bearings as fast as she could and bit down on the nearest spider leg she could, using all the force in her little body to pull on it, unknowingly going _beneath_ the spider and, with one mighty jerk topping it over onto its back, where Ron batted it away with so much force that with Hermione still holding on for dear life, that one leg had been ripped clean off, spilling ichor from the open wound.

Barely thinking, Hermione swung the leg back and forth as hard as she could, batting a few spiders in the face, which all seemed very confused now.

"Her**mio**_ne!_ Ge_t o_**ut of**_** h**__ere!_"

But Hermione didn't get a chance to respond, not that she had a good way of doing so when a great rumble shook the ground, throwing her over and even giving Ron several seconds of tough footing before, puzzlingly, the spiders _scattered!_

"W_ut?_" Ron blinked, breathing hard as he surveyed the battlefield. The spiders hadn't even left the corpses behind, dragging them off (no doubt to eat them later), their attitude changing _so much_ and _so suddenly_ that it left Ron frozen, his mind trying to catch up.

Hermione, though, could only shakily spit out the leg she'd been holding on to and curl into a ball, crying pitiably as she did so. Quietly, she tried to get over the fact that _she'd almost just died!_ She didn't even care, if only for a moment, that those... _things_ could come back; she was descending into sensory overload, and really didn't want to be _bothered with it_ anymore.

So when Ron shouted Harry's name and started away, transforming back to normal, looking to the leaves like a madman, she would have nothing of it; she jumped at him and caught his cloak in her teeth, yanking him back hard enough that he nearly fell.

"Hermione! That was Harry! It had to be! He's here!" Hermione squeaked frantically for several seconds, trying to get her message across that _she wanted to go back_, but Ron was having none of it and started off again.

Panicking, Hermione jumped flat-out for his back, knocking him on his chest before transforming back to normal to hold him there, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and crying, _begging_ him to please, _please_ go back to the castle! "Please Ron, I don't want to be out here right now! Please, let's just go back, I just _can't_! Let him hide if he wants, we're not -_hic_- going to find him, -_hic_- if we're _dead!_ Please, -_hic_- let's just go, please, please..."

And for several seconds Ron just laid there, letting the girl cry into his back. The tension and adrenaline were starting to bleed out of him and, if he were honest, the thought of staying out in the forest was starting to make him sick.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? Everything was making him sick, and he was getting sick of everything.

Finally, he maneuvered Hermione off of him so that he could help her stand, she now clinging to him, inconsolable.

And quietly, so quietly that it would be a miracle for anyone to hear him, he sighed, a conversation from long ago coming to his mind. "I guess he really is lost, now."

And with that, the two of them made their way back to the castle, never noticing the dull green eyes that followed them to safety.

* * *

><p>The castle felt, if anything, <em>colder<em> after that. Neither of them were willing to risk getting caught after that; not by the staff, not by _Umbridge_, and certainly not by her _sticks-their-noses-where-they-don't-belong_ squad.

What was worse was that it wasn't just _them_ that felt like hope had disappeared when Harry did. Really it seemed like all of Gryffindor had fallen into a funk, the likes of which were normally reserved for massive Quidditch losses, except without relief in sight. Even the other houses had started walking around like they had been told that they wouldn't be returning home that summer.

And really, as if Harry being gone, making them all feel scared and vulnerable for reasons they didn't really understand wasn't enough; as though Umbridge doing her level best to be sure that they _wouldn't be able to defend themselves_ wasn't enough, continuing news from outside the castle walls was plenty enough to make the whole population of the school, save most of the Slytherins, feel like the world was coming down around them.

Hogsmeade had been attacked recently, in what the ministry was calling a _copycat attack_ perpetrated by _terrorists_, still refusing to acknowledge that Voldemort might be up and about again.

And the Ministry was the worst out of all the things that left everyone feeling as though every moment might be their last; with the people in charge, _the people who were supposed to be protecting everyone_ refusing to take things seriously, trying their mightiest to _cover it all up_, it was no wonder people had actually started wondering if they would have a home to go back to.

And it was true. Everyone was in danger, but it was the Muggleborns, and to a lesser extent the Half-Blood students who felt the most terrified. There was a sense that the only thing keeping some of them from being targeted, _from being picked off_, either by a Voldemort supporter or even by Umbridge herself, about whom whispers flew like memos in the Ministry offices, was the presence of the staff; it was a feeling like being on a precipice, and one small misstep would lead to everyone falling over, whether one at a time or, somehow, all at once.

And then, one day, the students in the Gryffindor Common Room were greeted with a shock: A student was practicing spells.

Specifically, a small red-haired girl was in a corner, quietly attempting to perform the Patronus Charm.

"Ginny, what are you doing?" Hermione tried to hold the girl back, but was rebuked by her now visibly frowning underclassmate.

"I'm _practicing_, Hermione!"

"But the rules-"

"_Buggar_ the rules, Hermione!" Her shout somehow grabbed even more attention than her spellcasting did, which was quite a lot. She didn't seem to care, "Let her bluster all she wants! You said it yourself, she has _no legal right_ to do what she's doing! She can't tell us not to practice spells! She _can't_ make new rules for the school! Only the Headmaster can, and he hasn't agreed with her _once_! Not on _one bloody thing!_"

"But-"

"No!" Hermione was surprised when Ginny stamped on the floor, her eyes almost glowing with ire, "If she wants me to lie over and die, she's going to have to _make me!_"

Stunned silence followed this announcement, and for several seconds no one moved, and for several seconds after the girl turned back to the wall, attempting to perform the charm and barely getting a thin, wispy mist for her efforts, silence still answered her.

Then, casually, Ron asked, "When'd you learn that?"

Snappishly Ginny responded, "Last year, when Harry showed it to us. Remember?"

"Ah, forgot about that."

Fred laughed from where he, George and their friend Lee were studying around a small table, "How could you forget _that_? It was brilliant." Several students shared some whispers, a little bit of cheer passing around before the other brother gestured to their sister.

"Hey Gingin, mind showing us?"

After getting a few nods, Ginny sighed, trying to dredge up the happiness that Harry had said was needed to power the spell. She then shook her wand like Harry had, and chanted "_Expecto Patronum_", getting the customary thin mist that was, frustratingly, all she could manage.

"Pretty good," George then raised his wand, "But try doing it more like this." He then exaggerated the movements, slowly so that everyone could see them clearly. "See?" He then did it again, this time saying, with conviction "_Expecto Patronum._"

A ball of silver erupted from his wand, solidifying helpfully into a small, tubular animal that looked up at them all from the floor.

Ron snorted, "A weasel? Really?" Fred laughed in response, shrugging.

"What works works, Ron."

Neville stepped up, then, visibly giving himself courage, "So h-how's it work again?"

As George showed the younger boy the wand movements and reminded him that "A happy memory's the key," another student, Muggleborn presumably, finally exploded.

"That's easy for _you_ all to say! You're all Purebloods!"

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, or perhaps the right thing as, with the sound of a nearby glass of water exploding, Hermione turned around, eyes glowing painfully silver and scowling darkly as she held her wand in a dead-man's grip. Her words could barely be heard with the way her magic, furious and boiling, distorted her voice, but her meaning was clear.

"If they want to kill me, they're going to have to _fight me_ for it!"

And, after another moment of this sinking in, Ron chipped in, "If you don't like that one, Bombarda's pretty good, too." This cut the tension quite well, as Hermione huffed, her magic calming alongside.

"Ron, you'd wake the whole _castle_ if you tried practicing that!"

"So? Works great on giant spiders!"

"Honestly, you and spiders!"

A few more minutes of lighthearted bickering followed, with the rest of the tower coming to their own decisions. A few students merely going back to their studies, while some took to attempting the spells they were learning, and yet more trying their best to perform the Patronus, as a magic Protector seemed like a good thing to have.

But as for Ginny, though she wouldn't get it right that night, a few days later she would finally manage it not, as she'd been trying, with the memory of her date with Harry, but with the memory of giving her House its spine back.

She'd never before thought a little silvery Manx could ever look so beautiful.

* * *

><p>When Gryffindor returned to the school at large the next day, its students all had an air about them that spoke of defiance and strength, even if they still by-and-large did what they were told. It was not really something tangible, as even the bravest of the lions recognized that they could only push their limits just so far, especially with a government official that was willing to have children given the Dementor's Kiss.<p>

The twins, though, seemed to take it as a challenge; their pranks had started to become more and more frequent, and their targets more and more obvious, not that anyone really cared. Though a downside was that more points tended to be lost for 'using magic in the hallways', on the part of all the houses as the twins had taken to using foul smelling concoctions to mark Umbridge and her little lackeys; unable to stomach the smells that drifted around them, many students accepted the lost points in favor of a Bubblehead charm, which allowed them to breathe easily. The professors only took one point at a time, however, so it wasn't a great problem, especially as it was fairly easy to avoid being seen using it in the first place.

Life continued through Christmas, though, and unlike some previous years, a large number of students were encouraged to stay in Hogwarts, where the castle and staff would be able to protect them if something were to happen.

That wasn't to say that everyone, or even _any_one expected something to happen, but Voldemort and his lackeys were getting increasingly violent, seeming as though they were trying to prove something.

The only puzzling thing, though, had been the fact that, at least so far, there had been very few deaths. Or rather, very few had died from having magic used on them; three people had died of heart attacks from shock, while one more died from being dropped on his head.

Rather, most of the people that were harmed were harmed through spell-work and torture, including several who were interned in St. Mungo's for overexposure to the Cruciatus Curse.

In fact, if one were to listen to Hermione, they might suppose that the 'terrorists' (Death Eaters) were out looking for something, rather than simply performing acts of terror for the heck of it. What they might be looking for was beyond her, no one could possibly know, only accepting that there was nothing that anyone could do about it.

And really, so long as they were looking for something, they weren't killing people left and right, and that was a welcome thing compared to the last time they'd been running around.

Of course, just because they didn't hear about any muggles dying didn't mean it wasn't happening; when it came to magic in the muggle world, the Ministry of Magic was effective enough at covering things up, so who knew what they might really be up to?

More worrying, and much closer at hand, was the rumor going around the school of 'illicit activities' being gotten up to in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was less worrying that the other houses might hear them so much that Umbridge would; for the moment they were all protected by the law and the Hogwarts Charter, but Umbridge had already proven to not be above _changing_ the law to get her way.

So when Umbridge stood up at the staff table one morning during breakfast, all eyes, both eager and fearful, turned to her.

She seemed quite pleased with herself already, her gaudy pink bow bouncing sickeningly as she cleared her throat, the thick _Hem Hem_ sounding less like the clearing of a human throat than the sound of a snake's body scraping against the cold ground. "Yes, yes! If I can have your attention, children? Yes! Eyes on me now!" She cleared her throat again, somehow making the action seem so very self-important.

"As of this morning, I, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic Delores Umbridge, have been informed by Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, that the Ministry of Magic will be seeing a vote of new legislation which, when approved and put into law, will extend the current Underage Use of Magic laws." She cleared her throat again, apparently feeling like the whispers her announcement caused drew too much attention away from her. "Yes. Once approved, the Underage Use of Magic restrictions against underage wizards and witches using magic will be extended to include all of Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, the Ministry of Magic complex itself, Gringotts Bank, and, of course, Hogwarts as well."

She smiled, perhaps a bit viciously as the student body erupted into discussion, arguing and whispering and overall despairing over the meat of her announcement. Some small part of her toady little heart wondered if she might be going too far, that what she was doing was morally wrong. Some small part of her argued back at her that the _reason_ students went to a school for magic was so that they could hurt themselves under controlled conditions, and that the restrictions on them using magic at home was so that they wouldn't hurt themselves away from their professors and medical personnel, who were all trained to assist with magical accidents.

That small part of her was the part she hated most, however, and she viciously stamped it down. It wasn't as if _she_ were the one doing _anything_, after all, it would be the Ministry of Magic, not her! Besides, the Underage Use of Magic restrictions only lasted until their majority; there would be plenty of time during that last year at Hogwarts to actually put all the spells they'd learned to practice. Sure, it would put _some_ students at a disadvantage during that last year, as some reached majority later in the year than others, but it wasn't as though that were _her_ fault.

And besides, more accidents happened because the students' magical cores were _changing_ at the time than anything else; holding off on using magic until their cores had settled down and come under control would help prevent accidents. Of course, most of that control came from years of practice, which they would no longer be getting, but again, that wasn't _her_ fault.

And so, she had no reason at all to feel bad about what she was doing. And really, she got her way; she got to torment a bunch of children! What else was there in life but putting children in their place?

Oh yes, she was _quite_ pleased.

"_Hem Hem!_" Having given the children enough time to get properly upset at what she'd said, she decided to bring attention to herself again.

A smarter person might have wondered if that was a good move, but Delores Umbridge was not 'a smarter person'; she was, in fact, quite dense, not to mention drunk on power, so it never occurred to her that she was bringing herself to the attention of the bees' nest that she'd just whacked with a bat.

Why did she do it? Simple: _Because she could get away with it!_

Power was such a marvelous thing.

"Now then, with that announcement given, a friendly caution. It has come to the staff's attention that _certain students_ have been attempting to circumvent Ministry restrictions on spell-use, per the approved curriculum. This will be stopped, of course. And as High Inquisitor, it falls to me to assure the Minister that Hogwarts' students are following the appropriate rules at all times, _especially_ as failure to do so will soon incur hefty fines." She had to repress her grin as more whispers came about, but with an obnoxious "_Hem Hem_" she had their attention again. "I will, of course, be calling on the assistance of my Inquisitorial Squad, who will be helping me in this endeavor. As such, in order to discuss the mentioned activities, the members of the Inquisitorial Squad will be excused from first period classes in order to meet with me in my office."

She smiled, a sickly-sweet smile that turned the stomachs of any who saw it, showing teeth while many expected to see a long, slimy tongue lash out at the air. "That will be all, children. Return to your breakfast, and remember to study hard!"

* * *

><p>Later that night, after several <em>very<em> tense classes, and an _especially_ tense stand-off with Malfoy and his cronies, Hermione had had enough.

She left, braving her broom in order to fly down to the ground rather than risk any of the secret passages, transforming quickly and darting her way to the Forbidden Forest.

There was a singular purpose driving her on, an instinctive _need_; up to now she'd been perfectly willing, even ready to fight her way out of _anything_, even if it meant ripping that horrible Umbridge woman's neck clean out. But she now knew that she was wholly cornered and fully overpowered, and the only thing she could think of to do was to _Get Harry_.

Harry could help. Harry may not be able to solve _all_ their problems, but he was now the only one that could really help them, so she pushed her little body as hard as she could to find him, no longer paying any attention to the possible dangers of the forest.

If they got between her and Harry, she'd _rip them apart!_

Ron, meanwhile, was having a crisis of his own.

Never before had he wanted more than now to give in to his animal; it was _soo_ hard to keep a straight face, to keep quiet, when all he really wanted to do was _pounce_ on that woman and _tear her apart!_

Similar to Hermione, he really didn't think he'd be able to hold himself back much longer, but unlike her it wasn't being overpowered that he feared, it was being cornered.

Because he knew that if it came to it, if Umbridge came to confront them, he'd do whatever he could to defend himself and his house, even if it meant letting himself become a beast.

These sorts of thoughts followed him all day, and if he were honest he barely even noticed where he was at any one time, and so could never have noticed when Professors Snape and Dumbledore flinched upon looking at him, or the way he was periodically leaving scorch marks in his seats.

He was _so_ caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed Fred gesturing to him.

Or rather, he _didn't_ notice Fred gesturing to him, and so was surprised when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

He spun around, very ready to give violent justice to whomever might be attacking him, only just barely stopping when he saw his brother's face.

"What?" Surprise over, Ron scowled, "What d'you want?"

"Come with me." The seriousness in Fred's voice surprised the younger Weasley, and so he complied, following his brother down a nearby hallway.

"What's wrong? Is it Malfoy?"

Fred scoffed as he carefully unlocked the door to an unused classroom (one of thousands, it seemed at times), gesturing for Ron to follow him inside, which he did.

It was fairly standard in terms of unused classrooms; a few chairs were stacked in a corner, along with a couple tables that were in a bit of disrepair, and like the rest of the castle was perfectly clean, without even a smudge of dirt or dust. A few chairs had been moved to be closer to the door, presumably for the three of them, but what Ron _didn't_ see was George, which was worrying.

And then he felt it; just as the door closed, _something_ ran _under his robes_, then up his pants, and before he could properly react, _yanked his pants down!_

"Bloody Hell!" Windmilling, Ron tried to keep his balance while having his legs suddenly lashed together, but soon lost his fight with gravity, falling almost flat on his face, causing him to growl with frustration, "Oi! If I had known you were gonna _prank_ me, I'dve stayed where I was!"

Angry and frustrated, he tried to pull his pants back up to a background of Fred's familiar laughter, and a more unfamiliar squeaking noise he didn't recognize.

"What th-" Ron's gaze turned to where the squeaking was coming from, only to be met with the face of an animal standing right next to him, chuckling at the look on his face.

Before he could say anything, or even finish pulling his pants up, Fred chimed in, "Really George? You _pantsed_ him?"

Suddenly the animal changed, growing until it was Fred's height, quickly resolving into a dead-ringer for Fred, "Of course! It's a classic!"

"Th' Hell?" Finally pulling himself back together, Ron stood up, "You?"

"Yes, we." Fred put an arm over George's shoulders, seemingly in congratulations.

"You're?"

"Yup. Have been a while now." George answered that time, slinging his own arm over Fred's shoulders, actually knocking Fred's arm away in the act. "Surprised you never noticed."

"Not that we can blame you; things've been pretty crazy, ha'nit?" The twins separated then, seeming to relax, though they still stood between Ron and the door.

"Go on, then, have a seat." George leaned over to lock the door, giving Ron a conspiratorial look, "Don' want Umbridge or her cronies showing up unannounced." He then whispered an incantation, lightly wiggling his wand at the door.

"Silencing spell." Fred explained, noticing Ron's somewhat constipated, curious look. "Keeps anyone from noticing."

Wary, Ron took a seat; it was fairly clear he wasn't getting away, anyway, but wasn't going to give up his stubbornness just yet, crossing his arm. "So wha'd'you want from me? Whatever it is, I'm not helping."

The twins simultaneously rolled their eyes, Fred running a hand through his hair as he sat roughly in the chair to Ron's left, "C'mon, Ron, aren't you even curious?"

Ron kept frowning, "'Bout what?" He still refused to look his brothers in the eye, ignoring as George sat to his right.

"Us being Animagus, of course!"

"Not really." The twins rolled their eyes again, deciding to ignore their brother's obtuseness.

"Well too bad, we're telling you."

"Right." Fred nodded before crossing his arms, "Well, it's pretty short and simple. Imagine our surprise when our ickle brother managed to break a rule we hadn't even thought to?"

"We were real proud, mind, but we couldn't let it stay like that!"

"Nope. So we spent all that year on the potion."

"And practiced all summer."

"Great help in our pranking, when you can fit in places nobody thinks to look."

"Helped us get out of some tight spots it has."

"Like that one time Umbridge-"

"No, brother, let's just keep that one a secret."

"Ah fine. Prime material going to waste, though."

Ron, while the twins dialogued in their unique way, was growing more and more nonplussed. Their banter worked pretty well for putting someone at ease, but Ron had to interrupt. "So what d'you want _me_ for? To show off? Prove I couldn't figure it out?"

George gave his prat of a brother a quick cuff on the shoulder, "_No_, Ron."

"Look, we know what you're _really_ afraid of." Ron snorted, but Fred kept going anyway, "No, we're _serious_, Ron. But you don't have to worry about it."

Somehow, Ron was more shocked by Fred resisting the temptation to make a pun out of 'serious' than whatever else he might have been saying. This was all the opening George needed.

"The wizard chooses the form, Ron, not the other way around. Whatever form you've got, it's because it's right for _you_, nothing else."

Ron clammed up again, mumbling morosely, "Easy for you to say.."

Fred sighed, "Look, Ron, we know you're having problems with your temper."

"Growling."

"Stalking around like a wounded animal."

"Glaring, especially at _Malfoy_ and _Umbridge_, not that we can blame you for that."

"But we're here to tell you,"

"As your brothers,"

"Who've known you all your life,"

"That you've _always_ been like that."

"It's not because of your Animagus form."

"That's just who you are."

Ron snorted. "Don't explain why _water hurts_, does it?" Fred sighed in response, exasperated.

"No, Ron, it doesn't. But if you've got one of those really, _really rare_ 'Magical' Animaguses, it would."

"Honestly, you've got _nothing_ to worry about!"

"Really, we're more worried about how _responsible_ you're getting."

"Ever since you got Percy's old badge."

"_That's_ the real scary thing!"

"Not that we can blame you,"

"Most people grow up _eventually_."

"But you won't see _us_ doing that!"

"_Merlin_, no!"

"You're both barmy." Ron rolled his eyes at the identical expressions of stubborn childishness.

George waved him off, "Eh, sanity's overrated."

"So anyway, we said our peace, what say we get back to the tower, eh?"

Ron shook his head, giving up on trying to understand his brothers. "Fine."

They left the room, locking it behind them so no-one would notice the difference, and made their way back to the tower.

And once they arrived, they were met with a stand-off between several Gryffindors and the Inquisitorial Squad.

"Bloody hell..."

* * *

><p>Hermione admitted to herself that she felt really, really stupid.<p>

What really made her think she could find Harry on her own? Or even at all? Just like that?

Just because she was scared?

But really, she supposed that was what most of it was about, anyway; she was scared, and like usual she'd run away. She could bluster all she wanted, but that's all it was; at the end she was a coward who didn't really do anything when it counted.

She was the one who ran away, the one who hid behind everyone else, and really she just didn't deserve to have everyone bail her out all the time.

She felt especially awful this time, too. After all her determination to fight if it came down to it, once she was cornered she turned tail and ran. She didn't even really have a good idea of where she might be going, just that she hoped that Harry was there. She had no plan. No ideas. All her intelligence wasn't doing her a lick of good anymore and when she finally, eventually wore herself out with her blind running, she just collapsed against a tree to cry.

She felt miserable and afraid, lost and alone. This time she didn't even want to go back, either; Hogwarts was no longer a place she was _drawn_ to, it was now the place she was _running_ from! It was the reason she was running in the first place!

It was, it was... lost to her. And unless she found Harry, found _help_, it would stay that way.

'And... and maybe, maybe I just shouldn't go back.'

This started out as the morose thinking of a girl ready to give herself up to depression; her tears still weren't drying up and she didn't even care that she might be attracting attention.

Over time, though, as she calmed down, she began to consider it more closely.

As an animal, she could probably survive well enough; it was fairly clear that she wouldn't have to worry about getting cold, what with how fluffy she was, along with the fact that the snow already on the ground didn't really bother her.

And between her animal instincts, with her human knowledge, perhaps she'd be able to get along in the wild.

It would be a lot of fighting, but the more she thought about it, the more confident she felt, and the calmer she became.

And as she became calmer, she started to notice her surroundings more.

Despite what the humans had done to it, the outside world really was quite beautiful; the stars above twinkled merrily, the branches of the trees creaked quietly in the wind, and the snow that blanketed the ground was white, sparkling and pristine, save for the occasional footprint.

It even _smelled_ nice, if she was honest; everything was crisp and clean, like fresh vegetables recently frozen.

The whole world felt like it was asleep to her senses, and for the longest time, she was content to just... take it all in. It was almost enough to lull her to sleep; she'd even closed her eyes, letting her environment wash over her as she curled up beneath the tree she'd chosen.

Perhaps some animal, maybe a fox or something, would come complain about her taking its hiding spot. Maybe in the morning she would have to go hunting for something to eat, or maybe everything worth noting was asleep and she wouldn't get anything to eat for a while, maybe even long enough to drive her back to Hogwarts.

Maybe... maybe... maybe...

And then she smelled something out of place.

It was an odd, sweet scent, but the closest she could come to describing it would be... bubblegum.

It was bubblegum, and sugar, and some indescribable spice that smelled like... like _freshness_, like nothing she'd ever noticed before.

She wondered what could make such a smell, and trying to get more of it into her nose led her out of her hole and back out into the open.

It was above her. That wasn't too hard to imagine, she _was_ pretty short, but it had also been by recently. Not so recently that it might've passed just by her, mind, but recently enough that it was one of the stronger scents in the area.

Curious, and with nothing better to do at the moment, she allowed instinct to drive her forward.

There were, now that she was looking, a wide variety of smells in the forest; it was almost hard to concentrate on just the one except that, with winter covering the land and keeping most creatures underground or wherever they spent their time, the scent that had caught her attention was by far the strongest. So she followed it.

It led her around a large puddle. It led her across several animal trails. It even crisscrossed with itself a few times.

But eventually she began to close in on it. She didn't know this because the scent was getting stronger; rather, she knew it because it was getting... _more_.

There was a cross of it above her. And then another, and another. They were starting to converge, like well-used paths, and though they were all distinctly above her, she could tell that whatever it was she was smelling frequented the area in front of her.

So, when the smell started to become so strong that it permeated the area like a fog, she simply continued straight forward, wondering what it was that she might have found.

She did not find the creature, however, but instead found something far more puzzling. There, in the middle of a medium sized clearing, with no clear reason for it to be there, was a small structure.

It looked a bit like a lectern, except that the book had been replaced by a very small doghouse of sorts. It was made mostly of wood, with an obvious amount of care put into it, so it must have served some sort of purpose.

Curious, Hermione circled around it, getting up close enough to sniff it curiously; that smell was all over it, and she just couldn't get out of her mind how important it was, despite having no idea why that might be.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, though, when she heard a voice right behind her. "_It's cool, isn't it?_"

Nearly hitting her head on the structure, Hermione spun in place with wide eyes, her heart almost stopping in a combination of shock and surprise, and then again when she saw "_HARRY!_"

* * *

><p><em>Earlier<em>

* * *

><p>Delores Umbridge fancied herself pretty clever.<p>

She wasn't stupid! Or at least, she felt that she wasn't stupid, which went well with her assertion that she was pretty clever. It helped that Minister Fudge agreed with her cleverness, going along with her plans practically without thought; he obviously valued her thoughts, so her thoughts must have been pretty good.

When she'd made her announcement to all the _Lovely Children_, she knew some of them would be upset. Greatly so, even, so she watched them.

Some of them were barely worth watching, as most of them might grumble, but ultimately do nothing, just like the rest of magical society. It was so easy to _push_ them from behind the veil of the law, not only because they didn't push back, but because they knew they weren't _allowed_ to push back.

Such a convenient thing, that; so long as it was the Ministry doing it, the people literally had no right to go against anything that the Ministry did. Oh sure, _technically_ there were rules against that sort of thing, to prevent _corruption_ or some such nonsense, many of which laws on the books for that purpose having been stricken or being on the table for striking.

So of course, once she made her announcement, there was nothing the _Lovely Children_ could do about it. But they would. She knew they would. Children were predictable and stupid like that.

Especially those of Griffindor.

So she watched them. They grumbled, some snuck off to do who-knows-what, though for most of them it ultimately wouldn't matter.

She wanted to see their faces when they ultimately realized that they could do _nothing_.

But, while she was watching over the inside of the castle by utilizing her Inquisitorial Squad, her own time was best used by watching the castle's _outside_. After all, for her plan to work, the parents of the children had to be kept oblivious to what was happening, so she couldn't exactly allow owls to fly off with letters complaining to _mummy and daddy_, let alone anyone else with any sort of real power.

She momentarily wondered if she could find some sort of legal ground for banning the Owl Post to students, but for once in her life she realized that that would be reaching a bit too far; even _she_ didn't have _that_ sort of influence.

So instead, she merely watched for any coming or going owls, with the help of a charm that increased her night vision so she could see the silent little buggers leaving.

Imagine her surprise when she spotted not an owl, but a _student_ leaving the castle by way of a tower window. And if she were right, that was the Griffindor tower.

Now that was _especially_ naughty! That _little girl_ didn't know what she'd gotten herself into!

Delores actually had to keep herself from laughing out loud at the stupidity of the child, whom she quickly identified as a girl, in one of the upper years judging on size, though even _she_ couldn't have come up with a name from such a range.

Her first decision was to gather her Inquisitorial Squad to help her with a... _head count_ of the Griffindor dorms. But then she saw the girl _shrink!_

Oh how glorious! There was an unregistered Animagus in the Griffindor dorms! That allowed her an option that was _especially_ juicy!

A registered Animagus was, by law, considered to be a human witch or wizard with the ability to take on the form of an animal. An _un_registered Animagus, however, was seen as an animal, a magical creature not known by the Ministry, and therefore subject to the same restrictions as other magical creatures, such as werewolves and vampires. And _this_ Magical Creature had broken both the law, _and_ the rules!

Oh, she knew someone who was going to _love_ this!

* * *

><p>End Chapter 22<p>

* * *

><p>That is, as far as I can tell, the best place I could end. I was going to put more, but realized it would have been better served at the beginning of next chapter.<p>

And speaking of the next chapter, it is most likely going to be the finale. Depending on how long it gets it might get split up, but in my head I'm pretty adamant about it being the end of this story, or at least the main story. I'm sure you're all deeply concerned with finally finding out what that giant flower is all about. :P Don't think I've forgotten about it!

Oh, and Voldemort, too. Shan't forget about him, either.

Now before I go, someone brought up Snape's behavior and why no one does anything about it. Since it's been brought up before, while I'm fairly sure I've touched on it before, I thought I'd touch on it again. The reasons things with Snape go down as they do are varied, but most of them are these:

One reason Harry doesn't say anything is because he had his first two years to get used to it, and to be told, basically, to get used to it. Reading through the books, that's basically what Hagrid, Dumbledore, and even Prof. McGonagall all say on the matter. Also Harry, to some degree, doesn't really care, not just about Snape but about Potions, though that is mostly Snape's fault, especially in Canon, and is a real tragedy in its own way.

Another reason is that, at least from the point of view of an outsider looking in, it really seems that the Magical World operates on the idea that once someone is in power, they stay in power unless they do something _really_ stupid, and even then only if the public finds out about it. And even then, sometimes they stay on when they really shouldn't.

But the biggest reason is that I've seen fics where stuff like that's been done before, where Harry realizes he could probably get Snape kicked out, and realizes that Dumbledore is manipulating him, and all sorts of stuff like that, and this really isn't that story. I've seen them, and some of them are good, but my driving thing in this story is to have my characters act as I believe they would given their own personalities and what's going on at the time. Harry doesn't know Snape is a Death Eater, he doesn't know about the Prophecy and so can't be upset about being manipulated, and et-cetera. Basically it comes down to a 'business as usual' syndrome; the characters and situations don't change unless there's good reason to.

Although, where Snape is concerned, Harry's change in behavior _does_ have an impact. Harry, if anything, became _more_ forgiving of Snape on the whole, frustrating the man because, like most bullies, he hates being ignored. Further, although it largely wasn't his fault, Harry's sharp decline in affinity for Potions led to more accidents, which cranked up the stress on the man, as well as giving Harry a reason to suppose the man had good reason to be stressed out and angry at him. That said, it's not just because of his lack of color vision at low light levels that degraded his potions affinity; as a Pokemon, Harry would naturally have little understanding of potions. Pokemon in general don't know what to do with them, as it's the humans that make and use them, while the Pokemon only know which berries do what; they'll hold a potion faithfully, but don't know what to do with them, and that affects Harry's increasingly Pokemon-leaning psychology. That combined with Snape's behavior has squashed any care Harry might have originally had for the subtle art and exacting science that is potion-making, which just causes more stress for Snape.

Also, Fix-It stories, while appealing in their own cathartic way, aren't really my thing.

Hope that at least clears _something_ up.

As a final thing to say, this chapter was only really proofread once, so there might be a few too many commas (among other things), which I apologize for, as I wanted to get it up before making everyone wait _too_ long.

Alex Ultra: Can't Think Of A Clever Sign-Off

LATER


	24. The Finale Countdown

Disclaimer: Haven't won the lottery _yet_.

Quick note: This chapter is 21 pages and 15.5k words long. So... long chapter.

* * *

><p>The Finale Countdown<p>

* * *

><p>When Hermione met Harry it had been as a silly, somewhat nosy little girl, years ago on a train that honestly hadn't been very impressive. She hadn't been impressed with the boys either. Somehow, in her mind, when she had been looking forward to the magical world and all that it might hold, she had thought it would be like the stories she'd read over the years, where magic was a thing of knowledge, and where one's ability was directly linked to their willingness to study.<p>

She'd thought of old warlocks locked up in towers, surrounded by books and arcane diagrams, learning until they could learn no more.

This was the sort of education she'd been expecting, and had expected others to feel the same. Except that what she'd found had essentially been more of what she'd seen in primary. Regular people with regular children, passing around brooms instead of bikes and cauldrons rather than paints kits.

It was... disappointing. She'd at first thought it was because they were just children, as she'd known for some time that children, on the whole, were quite stupid.

But eventually she'd come to realize that how she'd imagined magic to be... wasn't how it was.

To be sure study was still important, but the romantic notions she'd arrived with had eroded over time, and eventually she realized that magic as it _was_ was far more based on instinct than knowledge.

Wand magic, it seemed, relied on aptitude more than academics, and that grated for a time.

Still, she did her best and worked to understand, since that was what she did best. She worked out how a spell worked, and that allowed her to better cast it. Ultimately, she turned her attention to magics that played to her strengths.

Arithmancy and Ancient Runes certainly did. Truly they were more like what she'd imagine than wand magic was, much better than that Divinations bollocks.

But the most agreeable of all was Potions.

Sure, the Professor responsible for the class was something of a berk, but the subject itself was fascinating and varied.

Just the very idea of it appealed to her. Bottling spells that could be used for nearly everything at any time needing only to be prepared! An exacting science in magical form!

It was, for her, perfect. So when she took to the challenge of brewing not one but _two_ very special, very advanced potions, without supervision she took it as almost a test, to see whether she really had what it took to become a potions Mistress.

At the time she was nearly beside herself with worry for all that could go wrong without supervision. But after it was all over she was almost ecstatic for her wild success.

Becoming an animal, however, helped and hurt her in _other_ ways, ways she couldn't have predicted.

As an animal her instincts were never far away, and the more she learned to listen to them, the more she leaned on them, the better she understood them and, by extension, magic itself.

It was, as she now understood it, not unlike an animal itself. What repetition and association got out of an animal, wand movements and incantations got out of magic. Tricks, tasks, basic commands, these were the sorts of things both magic and animals could be trained to perform on command but, with time and familiarity the clicker would no longer be needed, the leash superfluous, and even the silly wiggles and codewords that allowed children to cast spells could be replaced with much simpler familiarity.

And as she came to understand these things better, her spellcasting improved, even if her wand movements may not have been _quite_ as precise.

In fact, there were so many things that changed over the last couple of years that perhaps the most important one slipped her notice. How she related to other people.

At first she'd thought of them as silly, and perhaps a bit lazy. Then she'd turned to wondering how they dealt with all the instincts that drove magic warring within them.

Then she realized that it was emotion, not necessarily instinct that drove them. Instinct and emotion were so similar that it was little wonder that so many spells were driven by emotion.

And she wondered about herself. Like a light had gone off in her head one day she just stopped and thought, 'Am I different?'

Perhaps a bit, but it was normal for an Animagus, so she put it out of her mind. Whatever it was that drove her, whether a pack instinct or just teenage emotions, she didn't want her friends to leave, and didn't want to leave her friends.

All this and more ran through her mind as she cried atop Harry, who patiently let her do so. Whether because of emotion or instinct, she wasn't going to leave Harry's side again, not until she was sure that everything was okay.

Eventually both her tears and her emotions started to wear away, leaving her feeling a strange combination of cold, warm, tired and content. Finally, she opened her eyes, which she was sure were bloodshot and looked for Harry, who was right over her, watching her with those bright green eyes that reflected what little light there was to have so late at night.

Finally, the little pink kitten that still managed to be bigger than her mewled '_Better?_'

Rather than answering with any of the millions of things still zipping through her mind, about Hogwarts or about Umbridge or about anything else, she merely gently shoved her head into his stomach. Perhaps if she'd been human she'd have given him a swat and called him a prat, but the nearly judgemental glare, tinged with worry and relief and a million other things was just the same and easily said it all.

Harry (Flash?) scratched the back of his head with a smile, before backing off a bit and looking her earnestly in the eye. He then quietly asked, '_Do you think Ron understands...?_''

Hermione was confused by the question for a moment, then thought about it. Did he? Did _she_? She wasn't so sure about herself, but she thought maybe Ron did better than her.

'_I think so?_'

Harry smiled, then looked back at the odd structure for a moment before returning to her. '_Come on, let's go get him. There's something I want to show you guys._' Suddenly Harry took off into the air and floated above her, directing his head back toward the school.

Go get him? Did Harry mean to fetch Ron and bring him here? Harry was going to go back to the school?

'_Come on, don't be scared._'

'_I'm not scared!_' She huffed and took a couple steps, but shrunk a little, '_It's just... Umbridge..._'

'_Don't worry._' Harry floated excitedly overhead and, unwilling to lose track of him, Hermione followed.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, after a quick Floo-call by Umbridge to the Ministry's offices, a man had arrived to deal with a situation that had been brought to their attention. This man arrived with a large pole-axe leaning against his shoulder and an almost jolly glint in his eye that might make one believe he was quite happy.<p>

This man was from the Ministry's Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, and the pole-axe was a dead giveaway to his favorite method of controlling them. His name was Walden Macnair, and he rather liked his job, even if that job wasn't very nice.

He was responsible for the disposal of 'Dangerous Creatures', and he was always ready for such a call. So ready that he didn't even mind too much if he were getting paid or not, which led to him gaining something of a reputation among Ministry workers.

If you had a creature that needed disposed of on the sly, Macnair was the one to call. It got him in trouble with his boss, sometimes, but so long as he got to watch the life _bleed_ from his victims' eyes he was happy.

In short, he was unstable. A loose cannon that the Ministry kept on only because there were so few who would take the job from him. There were only three Executioners in the department, and neither of the other two revelled in it as he did.

And so, here he was, walking across the lawn of Hogwarts, ready to head into the Forbidden Forest to look for a 'Dangerous Creature' that had been spotted 'threatening the children', or some such tripe.

Perhaps if he took his time, he'd be able to reduce the spider population a bit. Or better yet, the Centaurs. Not the Unicorns, of course. It was a close thing, but not even _he_ was far gone enough to kill a Unicorn without even being told to.

He would need a permit for that.

Still, as he walked across the grounds, whistling a jaunty tune, he couldn't help but to think about how much time he and so many others had spent in this same forest over the last year or so. And right under Dumbledore's nose! True, three different Muggleborns had needed to be put under Imperius to keep them quiet (and also because they were just so _pretty_), but the search for Harry Potter had been fruitless.

And then he came upon the treeline and what does he see? The little brown mongrel he'd come for, and the pink monstrosity they'd all been searching for!

With an insane grin, he hefted his axe, "Well well, looks like I get two for one!" He then swung his weapon, seeking to cut the both of them entirely in twain.

He didn't miss. He _never_ missed. The creatures didn't _move_, his axe was enchanted to paralyze whatever it was aimed at.

Rather, the two of them had stared at him for all of a moment, paralyzed as expected, and then with a great flash of blinding light, they _vanished_.

He stood silently for a moment, then grinned even wider. He summoned his broom before taking off for the edge of the school's wards. He needed to be able to Apparate. He needed to tell his Master.

Harry Potter was at Hogwarts!

* * *

><p>"Why don't you just open that door so we can have our inspection. If you've nothing to hide, there's no reason to deny us, is there?"<p>

"You're not allowed to force your way into another house's dorms, Malfoy! It's a violation of the school charter!"

"Madame Umbridge has given us a wide range of powers for the course of this investigation. If you continue to block our way you will be removed from our way, and included in the investigation. How does expulsion sound?"

"Are you threatening my house, Malfoy?" The sound of Ron Weasley's voice coming from just behind the Inquisitorial Squad brought the rest of the hall to silence, as the increasingly tense standoff became entirely silent. The rivalry between Malfoy and Weasley was well known, and everyone wanted to know how this would turn out.

"And what are you going to do about it, Weasley? Curse me? If I even thought you could pull it off, I'd say you'd be expelled pretty quickly. Madame Umbridge is quite serious, you know." The IS sniggered at his barb, drawing hisses from the Gryffindors.

"I don't need magic to deal with _you_, Malfoy." Those that were paying attention may have noticed the undertones in Ron's voice, but in the heat of the moment Malfoy and his hangers-on failed to note it.

They also failed to note a small pink flash. Instead Malfoy pointed his wand directly at Ron's face, "Well, why don't we test that, shall we? You should remember this one, Weasley. _Slugulus Eructo_!"

Before the spell could hit anyone, or even before Malfoy could finish his incantation, a noise sounded from near the floor and a pale opalescent aura sprang up, swallowing the green light of the spell before it could even form, causing Malfoy to give his wand a queer look.

"What? _Slugulus Eructo_!" But nothing happened, so he tried again. "_Serpensortia!_" But again, nothing.

Another member of the IS tried an Expelliarmus, but it too failed, then everyone's attention was drawn to the side, where an odd green-and-white woman-like creature stood, pointing her fingerless forearm at Malfoy.

"Gar-Gardevoir! Voir..."

"What is that thing? Whatever, Crabbe, kill it." Crabbe lumbered forward, intent on strangling whatever it was, but Ron got in his way.

"Not on your life." The growling should have been a giveaway that Ron was being pushed too far, but what happened next was far more memorable.

"Shove off, Blood Traitor!" Crabbe went to punch Ron square in the face, not that Ron would have cared, but what happened instead was that the creature shouted loudly and, in time with the shout, a bright blue-gold barrier erupted between Crabbe and Ron, stopping Crabbe's fist cold before knocking him nearly three feet back.

The IS huddled together, finally detecting a threat of some kind, and the Gryffindors did the same, detecting an advantage, but the Green creature gently glided forward, noticeably effeminate fury showing in its posture. "Gar! Garde-devoir! Voir voir, devoir! GardeVOIR!"

The IS bristled before giving each other looks and raising their wands. What followed was a barrage of attempted spells, most of which failed outright and the rest of which splashed harmlessly off the Barrier that had been put in place. After nearly a full minute of increasingly loud spellcasting on the Squad's part the Gryffindors had taken to taunting the increasingly red-faced students.

Finally, Malfoy had had enough, "STOP!" After the chaos had stopped, Malfoy glared at Ron through the still visible barrier, "This isn't over, Madame Umbridge will be hearing about this."

The assembled Gryffindors cheered as the Inquisitorial Squad retreated down the hall, throwing glares over their shoulders as they went. Finally, however, a voice brought the cheering to a stop.

"Harry, come on, let's get inside."

All eyes turned on Hermione, who had grabbed onto the green creature and was now holding it. In response it changed back into the pink kitten which everyone now recognized as the creature Harry had changed into after the end of the tournament. As Harry crawled to stand on Hermione's shoulders, the assorted Gryffindors all crowded around, trying to get a look, asking questions, and some even asking to pet him

It was Ron, however, who got them all to stop. "SHUT UP!" The shout was so loud that several people jumped at it, turning to see the boy looking somewhat severe. "Everyone get inside. When Umbridge comes for us, we can't be out here." Fred and George nodded and started ushering people through the portrait hole, all the while Ron gave Harry a smouldering look, not even sure himself if he should be really angry or really relieved at seeing him.

Ron and Harry were the last ones through the portrait, the Fat Lady encouraging them on the whole time before closing behind them, promising to deny Umbridge entry even if they threatened to burn her, which was a nice gesture though hopefully not needed.

Once everyone was in the Common Room the questions started up again, dozens of voices all blending together into one messy cacophony. Most students were demanding answers, some pleading for help, and still others were trying to get the others back under control. Harry meanwhile had taken to floating higher and higher, closer to the ceiling as he looked over all the faces, worry in his posture though he made no sound.

Finally it all came to a halt when the youngest Weasley shouted, at the top of her lungs for "QUUIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTT!"

Everyone stopped, some looking amazed at the young girl, others holding their ears in pain at the pitch of her scream. Ginny merely stomped with a huff. "You're _scaring_ him!" She crossed her arms and glared at her housemates.

"Mew!" Harry, in response, protested with crossed arms, though his twitching tail gave him away.

Ginny huffed, "Oh honestly! Harry, stop being a big baby and get down here!" Harry in response flipped upside down and blew her a raspberry, but soon complied, landing on his hind paws and transforming at the same time.

So there, among the Gryffindors once more, was Harry Potter.

The quiet didn't last for long, and the three friends had a lot of explaining to do. Ron was rather popular afterward, most students concluding that his other form was 'cool'. That night Gryffindor remained uninvaded.

The next day was even more stressful.

For reasons that were patently obvious to anyone paying attention, not a single student from Gryffindor attended class, or even arrived to meals. This alone presented the staff with a problem, but when after lunch the bulk of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff followed suit, suddenly Hogwarts had an emergency on their hands, and the whole faculty got together to try to determine the best way to handle things.

A couple of the professors wanted to ignore it, and indeed Professor Snape had already taken three thousand points from Gryffindor for their mass absenteeism, along with one thousand each from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, while awarding Slytherin House a thousand for 'not being a bunch of morons'.

By lunchtime not only had two members of the school board of governors arrived, so had several guardians, all of whom started shouting at each other about who was at fault. The Faculty featured prominently in these accusations, as did Umbridge, who conveniently wasn't there, the Minister having called her back for some emergency or another.

And then something wildly unexpected happened. The school came under siege.

The first clue was several devices in the Headmaster's office suddenly making a large amount of noise. This didn't strike anyone as unusual, though Governor Baldridge did think to ask, with ears covered and a pained expression, "Dumbledore what _is_ that blasted _racket!?_"

With a wave of his wand, the venerated old wizard silenced the device, which looked rather a lot like a muggle microphone that had suddenly sprouted a mouth and started screaming. His somewhat worried expression barely made the notice of most of those in the room. "It means that someone on or near the school grounds means harm to the students of the school."

"Is that all? The students are always scheming against each-other, why does it have to be so loud?"

"You misunderstand, Mr. Baldridge. The louder it responds means the greater the danger. Normally nothing short of an attempted murder would bring such a reaction." He gave the Heads of House pointed looks, to which they nodded and retreated from the room.

"Where are they going?"

"To check on the students. It would appear we need to lock down the school..." He straightened slightly, eyes going unfocused. "The wards have triggered. The school is under attack."

The visitors all blinked, disbelieving before one thought to ask, "What? Under attack? What do you mean?"

"The wards that check visitors for Ill Intent have fallen, I must go, there is much to do." Barely giving the visitors a nod, Dumbledore left the room in a hurry, followed first by the Governors, then by the guardians.

Mr. Baldridge spoke first, already gasping for breath slightly, "Where are you going? To reinforce the wards?" Dumbledore's pace must have been too much for the man, because barely at the end of the hall he started falling behind. Unfortunately, time had been far kinder to Dumbledore than Mr. Baldridge.

"Yes. I will also be activating the suits of armor." Noticing the state of his companion, Dumbledore made a decision, "Mr. Baldridge, the Floo in my office is a secure connection, could you be kind enough to call Madame Bones to request support?" Seeing Mr. Baldridge nod Dumbledore nodded back, followed by acknowledging Madame Longbottom, who came up next to him.

"I shall meet them on the field, Albus. I cannot power the wards, but I can delay any that get through."

"Thank you, if so this is where we part, good luck." Dumbledore descended toward the wards' achor as Madame Longbottom led the rest of the visitors to the field, ready to defend the school and its students.

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room things weren't much calmer, as the students were preparing for an expected siege of a different sort. They had expected the staff, especially Umbridge to come knocking at any time now, which while a rather saddening commentary on the students' lack of faith in the school's administration, it was also an almost expected reaction to recent events.

So far, Professor McGonagall hadn't tried nor wanted to use her position as Head of House to confront her students over the matter of their absenteeism. It was clear that they'd been protesting their treatment at the... _tentacles_ of that woman, something that Minerva silently supported, though officially she could only defend her students from that woman if she perceived an actual attack, not mere bullying.

Her thoughts, therefore, were rather dark as she approached the entrance to the tower and, under better circumstances she would have been somewhat proud of the Fat Lady for denying her entry. Logically she knew that the wards were picking up on her state of mind and, perhaps due to a lockdown that she strongly suspected was either active or in the works, denying her from possibly harming the students.

She wasn't in that state of mind, however, and to her shame she quickly descending into a shouting match with a portrait.

"LET ME IN RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME-"

"DO YOUR WORST! I promised I would protect them, even from you! And by Merlin, even if it means being - oh, bollocks..." The Fat Lady was interrupted mid-rant by the door she was attached to swinging open, leaving Minerva stunned and confused for a moment before she quickly gathered herself back to respectability.

"Thank you, I need... Mr. Potter?" She stopped for several seconds as she took in the unexpected sight of a little pink kitten floating upside down in the passageway, staring at her as only a cat can.

Then his attention was drawn back at the common room and, giving her a look, he darted back up the stairs, leaving her to follow and the Fat Lady to slowly close, muttering about not being appreciative.

When she arrived at the top of the stairs it was to be greeted by the the sound of dozens of voices casting spells, some of them quite advanced. She knew she heard the Patronus charm being cast, and based on the silvery glow that one corner of the room now had, somewhat successfully.

When someone finally noticed her they stopped what they were doing, shouting "Professor!"

Everything stopped to stare nervously at her, even as she spotted a couple of students hiding their wands behind their backs.

"Er, we're sorry for not coming to class, Professor..."

"No we're not!"

"Yeah!"

"We're not coming out until Umbridge is gone!"

"I'm with him."

Minerva remained silent as she listened to the mutterings of support that the students were giving each-other, then sighed. "I don't know how the events surrounding Madam Umbridge will turn out, but I can't fault you for protesting her..." She tried to come up with a good, not-completely-character-assassinating description for Umbridge, but trailing off seemed to do well enough, as the Gryff's mostly calmed down, though they remained on alert.

Straightening, she got back to why she was there in the first place. "I've come to inform you the school is on lockdown." Muttering came from this, and Umbridge's name passed a few mouths. "The Headmaster informed us that an unknown, great danger is on the grounds and until it has passed, you are all to stay in the dorms. Now, if everyone could please stand still, I will do a headcount."

Before she could get to it, however, a great rumbling noise echoed through the school, a physical noise that shook everyone's feet and dislodged someone's glasses from an end-table, where they fell to the ground and shattered.

After it had passed and everyone had started mumbling, Colin Creevy rushed down the stairs from the boys dorms, shouting loudly, "GUYS GUYS! THERE'S AN ARMY OUTSIDE!"

Although he stopped at the sight of Professor McGonagall, the damage had been done as pandemonium erupted, Professor McGonagall standing no chance of reasserting order. Students worried, students shouted, and a good bunch of them retreated to the dorms, intent on looking out the windows to verify the claim.

But before Colin had even noticed the army outside, while he was still climbing the stairs to retrieve his camera, Harry had already retreated, Hermione close in tow.

She found him in his dorm, just lifting the window open. "Harry!"

He looked at her, then flicked an ear and looked away, down at the grounds where he could see said army, leading Hermione to have a look. What she saw made her eyes widen in shock, "Is that a _basilisk!?_"

Indeed, among the throngs of people were a pair of gigantic snakes, each with eyes covered by cloth, while roaring in the distance suggested something perhaps even more chilling as a dragon bayed for blood.

'_They've come for me, Hermione._'

"What do you mean? For you? You can't know that!"

'_I can hear their thoughts, Hermione. Besides, they've been looking for me since last year, coming out at least once a week to tear the forest apart, and it isn't going to end until I confront him._'

"But, what makes you think you have to _do_ that? What makes you even think it has to do with you?"

'_Because I know it. I've kept away from them so far, but I can't run forever, Hermione._' Hermione was struck by a recollection of Ron saying the same thing, and got a rather cold feeling in her gut; the last time she'd heard those words they'd been attacked by giant spiders. '_They'll catch me sometime, and then I'll just be too tired to fight._'

Hermione stood stunned for several seconds, just watching Harry, then as the Common Room erupted into chaos she frowned, "Well then I'm coming with you." At his confused mewl, she nodded more strongly, closing her fists with a determined expression. "You're not going without me. I'm going."

Harry sort of looked at her, as though measuring what she was saying, then, with little preamble, flew out the window, leading Hermione to do possibly the stupidest thing she had ever, or would ever do in her entire life.

She transformed so she would fit, and jumped out the window after him.

In retrospect, she obviously hadn't been thinking about the many-story height of the Gryffindor Tower.

"VWEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" She flailed and wriggled mightily as she fought against gravity, not even noticing for several seconds that she hadn't gone even a foot from the windowsill until she'd been pulled back inside, where she latched with all four legs onto the arm that was holding her, stricken with panic.

"'MIONE! 'Mione calm down!" She stopped, stunned for a second as Ron repositioned her to carry her better, then started shouting at him agitatedly, causing him to grunt, "Mione..." she huffed and glared at him, causing him to roll his eyes as he held up his other hand, which held a broom. "I've got his broom."

Meanwhile on the ground several professors and even some students had gathered to defend their school, lobbing spells from a distance even as the suits of armor that most had always thought were decorative marched forward, weapons at the ready.

It was just as the Headmaster had arrived to lend his direct support that it happened. All involved heard a loud, high pitched shout and watched as a streak of pink dove from the clear sky into the assembled ranks of wizards, plowing through them and scattering them out of formation.

Dumbledore, seeing this and watching as the pink streak was followed back into the sky by several wizards on brooms, paled. "Harry, no..." 'He can't be here! Tom _can't_ get ahold of him!' Reenergized after the tiring work of activating the school's defensive wards, he started casting spell after spell into the crowd of Death Eaters, for that's what they were and, indeed, how they were dressed. Most were meant to incapacitate, some would kill if left alone, but all were wide-area spells hoping to catch more than one target at a time and all were much more powerful than any others being flung back and forth on the battlefield.

The exception was that pink streak, which while it did little damage flung its targets as much as a hundred feet in the air.

But even as students started swarming from the castle, some on broomsticks, it was barely enough to slow down the tide; rather than strategy, Voldemort had opted to simply overwhelm Hogwarts with numbers.

Indeed, Voldemort himself was quite pleased with how things were going. Not just because his death eaters had Dumbledore nervous, apparently unwilling to jump into the fray directly and leave the students unguarded, but because his _real_ target had arrived.

"Ignore the old man, focus on the brat! Bring him to me!" It took only a moment for the order to disseminate, but it was clear when it had, as suddenly a full third of the spellfire coming from his lines had been directed at the pink streak in the sky. Certainly many of the lower ranking Death Eaters did not know what to fire at, but so long as they were firing they were doing enough.

At the other end of the spellfire Harry noticed the sudden change of tactics. He knew he was the center of attention, but he also knew that he couldn't stay there forever; he _needed_ to reduce the amount of spells coming at him. His Barrier deflected most of them and he was able to dodge the rest, but he didn't know how long that would last

So, he did the only thing he could think to do: He dove straight into the middle of things, right at Voldemort himself.

Who smiled at the sight. Finally, something was going right! "Capture him! Prepare the altar!"

For the previous months, Voldemort had researched any way he could take that creature's power for himself. And although he had missed his chance at the resurrection ritual, what he _had_ found would be even _better_!

But first he needed to catch the brat, to keep him from moving around.

When he was almost there Harry slowed down, taking in what Voldemort appeared to be doing. It looked like some kind of summoning ritual, with Voldemort at the head and five others at the points of a six-pointed star. He didn't recognize any of them, even just from their thoughts, but he knew he didn't want to let them do what they were doing.

So he dove in, sending a shocking wave at the first few defenders, who fell to the ground paralyzed. This dropped a barrier that had been defending the circle, though of this outer circle he recognized the elder Malfoy and that man that'd been on the grounds the night before.

He didn't spare a thought to those men as he advanced on those at the inner circle, grabbing the closest two and flinging them aside.

But then he heard something that froze him in place. Voldemort, now visible to him, had raised his wand at him and shouted "_HOMOMORPHUS!_"

Ron and Hermione had landed only moments before and had joined the fighting.

Or rather, _Ron_ had joined the fighting, while Hermione darted forward, running between the feet of their adversaries almost entirely unnoticed.

"_BOMBARDA!_" Spamming his new favorite spell, Ron advanced on the Death Eater lines, never letting them get close enough to get a good shot at him. He was just cresting a small rise, wary of all the faces he saw on the other side, when he saw something that made his blood run cold.

He saw Harry descend onto a group of villains near the back, close to the woods. He saw Harry attack a couple of them.

And he saw Harry fall to a green flash of light, his suddenly-human form limp as a puppet with the strings cut.

It took only a moment for the cold feeling to ebb away, and what replaced it was much, _much_ warmer.

He saw red.

In that moment, two amazing things happened. While Ron stepped forward, heedless in his rage of the spells careening into his body, entirely unfazed by even the killing curse, behind him, closer to the lake, a rather large plant, which had been budding for several years now, suddenly came into full bloom.

It happened in sync, as though planned, that as the sun had begun to set, the flower came into full bloom and, as it did, as its petals reached out for space, the sky erupted into sudden _burning _light. So intense was it that student and attacker alike had to guard their eyes, and with the light came a wave of heat that would be sweltering even to the experienced.

But Ron didn't notice any of that. He'd already transformed, and the heat felt like home against his fur. He focused it, revelled in it, and with his eyes focused on Voldemort alone...

He roared.

Hermione did not care if she had to go around someone's feet or straight through them, when she felt like it she was quite violent, and more than a few unfortunate lackeys found themselves without a leg to stand on, with nary a clue of why. She was on a mission, she was going to get Harry back! She could smell him, knew where he was, knew he was in trouble!

She wasn't going to lose him this time!

So it was little surprise that when she came across the ritual, the first thing she did was attack the closest face she could find, which just so happened to be a very surprised Walden Macnair.

Voldemort, meanwhile was very irritated and impatient. The ritual was all but complete! Magic was practically _buzzing_ around them! The ancient Familiar ritual was almost finished, the creature almost bound to his will forevermore!

All that was holding them back was that the _stupid_ boy was refusing to change!

"CHANGE! I COMMAND IT! _CRUCIO!_" Again he cast the pain causing curse, and again the boy barely twitched. It was _infuriating!_ How was he supposed to bind the creature to himself if the boy refused to become it? Oh sure, the ritual would work equally well on a human; once Voldemort pressed his own open wound against that of his new familiar, the two would become as one, with the one possessing of more power being in command. He had taken great pains to make sure that that would be _him_. The Dark Mark siphoned off energy from every Death Eater it marked and fed it to him, increasing his overall power, but even then he'd gathered his most powerful followers and, in addition to powering the Familiar ritual, had them feeding _him_ power so that he would be on top.

It was flawless, and all he needed to do was to exchange blood with the little monster, then it would be _his_ little monster. But between the Crucio and the Imperius, nothing got the brat to even _move_, let alone transform. It was as though a Dementor had already sucked his soul away.

Finally he decided, just as the sunlight was reaching its peak, that if he didn't transform _now_, he would take the boy and control the creature that way, extra benefits be damned!

Furiously, he demanded, "TRANSFORM NOW! SO HELP ME, CREATURE OR NOT, YOU WILL BE MINE!"

Perhaps it was the word 'transform' rather than change, perhaps the term 'creature' rather than monster, even Harry would never know for sure, but _something_ clicked in his mind, and Harry thought 'Transform? Good idea...'

Seeing the boy start to shrink was all it took for Voldemort to hold off, a grin growing on his face as he readied the knife that would create the wound.

And then his outer circle was broken, the resolve of his Death Eaters was shaken by a monstrous roar, and before he could determine what was wrong, his face was suddenly full of biting fur.

While Harry slowly came-to, eventually catching Hermione's attention, Ron's rage was all pent up, pushing out on him in all directions. He could barely see!

Then, just as he saw Hermione tackle Voldemort in the face, giving him a sort of satisfaction, his rage turned to resolve. The red haze turned to perfect clarity.

And as his roar echoed back to him, the ground beneath his feet, _paws_ began to rumble and shake, softly at first, then _violently_ until, in a moment he'd been anticipating for _years_, _Life itself_ drove up and _erupted _around him, sending light and flame _everywhere_.

It surrounded him! It suffused him! It really did feel like he could take a thousand Avada Kedavras to the face and barely _sneeze!_

Purpose in mind, he turned on one of the Basilisks, the greatest threats among his current enemies, breathed in, and let it go.

From the outside the explosion of light and fire looked and felt more like the eruption of a volcano than any explosion any present had seen before, and as great lumps of molten rock rained down upon the robed figures, breaking bones as easily as immolating flesh, all present realized _it was!_

Then, when the insanity couldn't have gotten any greater, one of the Basilisks reared up, complaining loudly about the burning rock that had fallen on its tail, only for a spherical gout of concentrated flame to rocket from the growing volcanic pyre and slam into its mouth. The great snake's mouth closed automatically less than half a second before the back of its head _exploded_ in a shower of flaming flesh and debris and scattered venom that even the smart could only hope to avoid.

Seeing this, the escorts for the other Basilisk made a snap decision, "REMOVE THE BLINDS!"

Before the order could be carried out, however, another blast, this time seemingly of light itself and originating from the great flower slammed into the snake king's snout, doing little visible harm but pushing the beast up and back, while also blinding any who saw it, including the monster itself.

Enraged, the creature thrashed powerfully in its blindness, its blinds having come off, leaving it to trample the suddenly very dead corpses of its handlers.

While the burst of light returned to finish off the Basilisk, Harry had woken up, calling out to Hermione.

Hearing this, Hermione gasped, jumping off her last victim's face and retreating to the stone table that Harry was sitting on. Jumping up to him she tackled him, licking his face with tears of relief and joy. Then Voldemort, having regained his bearings, swiped for Harry with a shout, "CREATURE! YOU'RE MI-AAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!" But by the time he'd taken his swing Harry had already teleported away, leaving Voldemort in a rage from which he saw only one escape. "_AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ He started killing everyone around him, leaving several students parentless, his plans in shambles.

Harry, however, had landed atop one of the castle's parapets, far away from the fighting.

It was peaceful up there, with only the edges of the stress and noise making it up to them.

It was here that Harry watched and Hermione experienced something that Harry had only been told about.

Harry held Hermione off him as he watched her glow brightly, even more brightly than the sunlit sky above. It was at the point that Harry was watching with awe that Hermione noticed that something was happening.

"Vee? Veevee, Eevee!"

"Mew, memiu."

"Eevee?" Harry nodded with a smile and Hermione relaxed, allowing whatever was happening to happen.

It was fast. She grew larger, still on all fours but with a longer body and longer legs. Her tail grew longer as well, though its fur also grew thinner, followed by her single tail splitting in two near the halfway point, like the branches of a tree.

Her mane shrank away, though not completely, she would never fully outgrow that bushiness she'd had all her life, and then, finally, the light faded, leaving her an impressive shade of... purple.

"Spee?" Confused, the newly reformed creature looked herself over with gem-like, violet eyes. She didn't know it, but she now looked very much more like a cat than a fox, but the greatest difference was how she _felt_. She felt stronger. More sure of herself. She _swore_ she was hearing things, _feeling_ things she hadn't felt before. She was, indeed, a very confused young Espeon.

But she didn't get much time to think about it. "Biii?"

Both Harry and Hermione turned to the sound, to find that they had company. There, floating just above the tower, holding a lightly glowing stone was... Harry. Well, the time-travelling-fairy version of Harry, at any rate.

"Mew?" The second Harry slowly approached the first one, holding the stone in both green hands.

While both Harry and Hermione watched curiously, the light from the stone leaked out and drew into the second Harry's arms. Then, once the stone was dark, but still somehow glowing with an internal light, the second Harry handed it to the first.

'_Do you know what to do with this?_' Harry looked at it, then shook his head slowly. '_Yes you do._'

The Celebi then disappeared before appearing again behind the other two.

And to Harry, it was strange. It was like that first time he and Hermione travelled to the past, like he knew what was happening, what _had_ happened and what was _meant_ to happen.

In that one moment, it was like he got a briefing on everything the other Harry had done. That _he _needed to do. Everything that led to this point.

Determined, he nodded his understanding. He transformed into the form that allowed him to travel through time, and disappeared, leaving a confused Hermione and a Future-Now-Present Harry behind.

Hermione turned to the only Harry left for answers, "Espe?"

"Cel. Cele-bibi?"

* * *

><p>Harry timed the arrival of his first destination very carefully. If he arrived at a point when his past self was aware of time, his past self would get the same... briefing that he'd just gotten. To prevent a paradox, his past self would be told what to do and when to do it. He couldn't have that, his past self had to remain unknowing of what was to come, at least for now. That's what time had told him.<p>

So he arrived inside the very small moment of time when Professor Lupin had used the Homomorphus charm on him. That charm was the only thing he'd come across with the power to make him completely human, and since he was not aware of time when completely human, that was his opportunity to travel to the past without alerting his past self.

Once there, the only thing he could really do was wait, so he retreated from the school to the forest surrounding it, where he waited in a sort of hibernation until his next opportunity. Biding his time was important here, but so was the stone he'd taken with him. It had life in it, and he spent his time nurturing that life. Growing it, giving it strength while he himself also grew.

Until that holiday season, when his past self allowed the charm to be cast on him, in an attempt to keep the Dursley home as a place of refuge. To keep the blood wards up and therefore keep one foot in the Muggle world.

Harry jumped once more into the past, alerting his other time travelling self, but again not the boy who was, in that moment in Dumbledore's office crying out in pain.

Harry tried not to think about that detail, it made him shiver, but he had something he needed to do.

This time, although he continued to nurture the stone, which now looked far more like a seed than a stone, he also prepared himself for the first major task that time had given him.

Then, on the night that the Goblet of Fire had been put out, he made his move.

With all the time he had spent travelling through time, Harry was now seventeen years old. And although he didn't actually know what would happen if he _didn't_ put his name in the Goblet, he knew that he was _meant_ to do so.

So he did. The Goblet accepted it and, as a literal deity, he was a shoo-in for Champion. It was perfect! He didn't know why, exactly, but at least he knew his past self didn't really have any problems with it.

Of course he also conveniently forgot his little temper tantrum, but it was forgotten, conveniently so, so that was fine.

Still, with that done he had one more thing to do, and again it would take some time to complete.

Again his past self succumbed to the Homomorphus charm, and again future Harry took it as his cue to leave, this time to the summer of third year, again.

Once he arrived he made his way to the Hogwarts grounds, where he took his seed... and planted it.

The strength he'd been gathering inside it allowed it to sprout almost instantly, but that wasn't enough. So he drew on a power that he knew he had, but had never used before.

_**Sunny Day.**_

The sky brightened, as though the sun had suddenly grown three times stronger, and plants for miles around _grew_.Trees, aged and tall, grew less weary, if only slightly. Bushes and grass grew larger and taller, if only a bit. Plants in general soaked in the energy, and the plant that sprouted from his seed was no different.

It had been five feet tall before, but within moments it grew to ten feet. Fifteen feet. At twenty feet its roots reached the level of the lake nearby and within seconds it had reached fifty feet, seventy feet, _one hundred feet tall _and still it grew.

Somewhere along the line two small leaves bloomed from its stalk, reaching outward to cover a wide area of land, shaming any tree. Its stalk wrapped around itself, giving it the appearance of a green and purple vine, much like one a Jack might climb, and it continued until the tip blossomed into a mighty flower nearly twenty feet across.

And then, as the light faded back to normality, leaving the world feeling just a little bit cooler, the plant's growth stopped.

Harry, satisfied, flew up to the bloom and dove inside. There, he started gathering strength again, just as he had for the seed beforehand, his own power giving the stalk a protective force even as the plant gathered the sun.

Over the next year, while students and professors alike puzzled on the strange, alarming growth, Harry remained nestled inside. Over the winter, the flower's petals fell away, leaving only the stalk and a single bud, inside which Harry continued gathering energy.

Then, as spring came the bud grew, but did not bloom. It did not bloom all summer. It did not bloom that fall.

But it _did_ swell, as though preparing itself. And it was.

The leaves, each larger than cars and so reminiscent of the arms of Celebi, gathered the sun. More and more every day, growing in strength and power, storing all it could spare into the bud, for just as any other flower, its purpose was the creation of the next generation, the creation of a seed.

Time didn't seem to care much that it had created a loop, that the very seed this flower was producing would later be the one that grew into that very same flower; it was perhaps a bit strange, but Harry paid it no mind.

Still, to be honest the seed was already ready, plenty prepared for creating the next generation, but Harry was holding off from removing the seed, still gathering strength.

And when he sensed approaching darkness one afternoon, the reason he did so became important.

This time when the army came, he'd been meditating and sensing the outside world purely through mystic senses for nearly a year and a half, and with nothing else distracting him he was able to see far more about Voldemort's forces than he had the first time. He felt the Basilisks, great knots of power barely restrained. The dragons, four of them, were farther away, fluttery bonfires of animal aggression headed this way, but besides those great powers were others. There was Voldemort himself, barely even approaching human himself but still clinging to it, if a bit unwillingly. His inner circle was there, powering something that Harry knew wouldn't do much. He could feel himself, too, of course, as well as the professors and students.

He might have revealed himself as soon as he heard the fighting start had it not been for what he sensed last.

Smaller bonfires of darkness, cold and hateful, malicious even. He hadn't seen many, only having run into one or two while exploring Knockturn a lifetime ago.

Vampires.

At first they hung back, and as soon as Harry noticed them he couldn't figure out why. Then it made sense to him.

When he felt them start to move, that was when he made his move.

The bud above and around him creaked open, too slowly for his taste but still it did so. As soon as he could see the sky he took his prize and shot for the open air.

What he saw was exactly what he expected, although since he'd been barely alive last time his memories did little to prepare him for what he saw.

The school grounds were a mess. Between explosions from spells impacting the ground, the various effects of those spells, elemental abilities and just about anything else that could possibly happen in what amounted to a magical warzone, as far as the eye could see had been... ruined, for lack of better word.

But he quickly took stock of what he could see, and the first thing that really caught his attention was Ron, fury, power, and FIRE ready to burst out of him.

The part of him that was a Pokemon knew what was about to happen, and that part also supplied something he could do to help.

**SUNNY DAY.**

His mental intonation took a moment to take effect, but the artificial sunlight that flooded the area afterwards did three things all at once that helped him.

The first, which he was happy to note seemed to have worked, was that Ron was obviously strengthened, judging by the giant pyroclastic display. The second thing made him even happier: Vampires, which had just come from the forest since the sun had set, were now flying back for cover, many clearly in pain and unlikely to come back for more.

The third, which made him even happier, was that his instincts told him about a skill that was easily paired with the harsh daylight.

Deciding on the most important target, he chose the Basilisk that Ron _hadn't_ just immolated from the inside out, took aim and... **SOLARBEAM!**

The beam of concentrated sunlight that left his palms at that point would have been plenty powerful enough just from the Sunny Day he'd cast, and wouldn't have even tired him out as it otherwise might have. But in addition to the readily available sunlight all around him, he also drew from the seed, which had taken in so much power over all the time Harry had been caring for it that it now looked more like a smoldering stone than a seed.

He barely paid the burning creature's pained shrieks any mind, firing a second time just to be sure it would be dead before choosing a new target.

He did that again a few more times, taking out one of the dragons just as it arrived and making the other three nervous, several humans falling of their backs from the sudden flanking movements.

And then he sensed his past self teleport. He gave one of the remaining airborne dragons a good shot in the flank before following.

There he again watched Hermione evolve, the sunlight from his Sunny Day suffusing her fur and even her very being. For a moment he actually felt kind of guilty. It was relief about him being 'okay' that had given her the happiness needed to evolve as she had. That meant that he had really, really worried her. He'd have to make it up to her somehow.

He waited until the right moment to let them notice him. He repeated what his own past self had said, and finally he traveled forward in time, only a moment or so, to give Harry that little... briefing. It was like when he moved through time, all the previous moves through time followed him, and reflected themselves back to any who were sensitive to those movements. Or maybe it was because he was psychic, it was hard to tell. Maybe he'd had too much time to think to himself.

Now sure that his past self knew what to do, Harry drew the last of the excess sunlight from the seed into himself, allowing it to become just a seed, and handed it to the younger 'him', who promptly left for the past.

And now he was alone, the only version of himself currently in the timeline... but not completely alone.

'_Harry?_'

'_Yup. Miss me?_'

'_But you didn't go anywhere!_'

'_Sure I did! I went to the past, and I did some stuff... I'll explain later._'

Hermione watched as this new Harry, which was apparently the old Harry, turned to look at the battlefield, changing back to his normal form in the doing. In the back of Harry's mind he realized that that little adventure would probably be the longest he'd ever hold a single form for rather a long time. It was like a record, really!

'_Harry, what are you doing?_'

'_I think I know how to stop him. I know what to do with him._'

'_Harry no! Let the professors do it, you don't need to do anything!_'

Harry didn't sigh, but if he hadn't been so energetic he might have. '_Hermione..._' Then he stopped, tilting his head as he looked at her carefully.

'_Actually, would you like to help me?_'

'_What? What are you talking about? Me?_'

'_Sure! All you gotta do is confuse all the other people around him. I'll even teach you how!_' And without even letting the purple cat respond, let alone back away he suddenly darted forward and put both palms on her forehead.

This was a delicate process. He hadn't even known he could do it, and maybe he even couldn't, but his instincts told him that he mind was ready for this, so in an instant he connected his to hers and... showed her what to do. He didn't force her to learn, just asked her to pay attention as he showed her subconscious something that he instincts already knew.

Less than a moment later it was done and he backed away with a smile, watching her eyelids flutter as she swayed on her paws.

Finally when she shook her head and refocused on him he asked, '_Ready?_'

She opened her mouth with a frown, clearly ready to lecture him, but then she stopped, squeezing her eyes shut as she ineffectually rubbed her forehead with one paw. '_You're not going to change your mind, are you?_' She could maybe understand a bit, beyond simply wanting to be done with it; she didn't understand the thing with You-Know-Who and the Boy-Who-Lived, beyond both having hyphenated nick-names, but she could understand being fed up with it.

But beyond that, whatever Harry had just done it had... done something. It was like she was suddenly aware of magic. Or maybe not aware of magic so much as aware of what she could do with it; it had always been there, it had the familiar feeling of something that had simply always been so ubiquitous as to be ignorable but that she'd now noticed it and realized what it could do. It was...

Intoxicating.

Merlin if this was what Harry felt like all the time, no wonder he was so hyper!

Standing a bit straighter, she focused on the... not so much plan, but plan. '_Fine, let's get this over with.' _Harry smiled, floated toward her with one paw out, and touched her shoulder.

Suddenly they were in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by men, many of whom had abandoned their white masks to see better and were lobbing spells with as much power as they could still muster. It was obvious that they were tiring, and most of them were scared out of their wits. The fighting shouldn't have taken so long! They shouldn't have been fighting a bunch of forces that could take out a pair of ancient Basilisks and a bunch of dragons! They'd signed up to be on the winning side, not the weirdly losing side!

Still, Harry and Hermione's entrance did not go unnoticed, as a few wands turned in their direction, spells splitting off toward them quickly, which Harry shielded against.

Hermione simply concentrated on that feeling Harry had given her, and pulled.

Her eyes glowed a bright purple and her head felt as though a great weight had settled upon it, so with a cry of "ESSSPEEEE_OOOOOO!"_ she _lifted_.

She had no way of knowing that her 'attack' was actually quite weak. Her battle experience amounted to fighting for her life against some giant spiders, and tearing up a classroom. She hadn't even participated in any but the required duelling lessons, and those were usually heavily controlled. So while the effect of her attack was widespread, it didn't do much in the way of damage.

But, as hostiles for dozens of feet around were suddenly lifted, spinning slightly into the air, Harry darted off. Hermione's attack didn't _need_ to do damage, so long as it could be a distraction.

By the time Harry found his target Hermione had to let go, not because the men she was holding were heavy, but because some of them had managed to twist in her grip to be able to get a shot at her.

They all fell to the ground, but she picked them up again right away. To her consternation they simply pivoted in the air again, so she dropped them again before running off.

She was quickly cornered, however, and lifted them all once more. She knew she couldn't do this forever, not without wearing herself out, and she really couldn't move while she was holding everyone in the air; maybe with practice she could pull something like that off, but at the moment it was all she could do just to lift them.

This time when she dropped them again, several of them landed on their feet and immediately approached her, spells hanging on the end of their wands.

Desperately she lifted them again, but this time rather than they simply being lifted into the air several of them were knocked to the side as Ron landed among them, roaring louder than anything Hermione had ever heard before.

Ron had noticed the commotion, of course. He may have been living in the moment, revelling in both the feeling of power and in the sense of being useful for once, but he was still aware of what was going on around him.

When he noticed a section of the battlefield near the back, being repeatedly lifted and dropped he figured that something was going on, and the vaguely purplish color suggested Harry had something to do with it. So, in one great leap, he landed in the middle of the group just in time to take the lot of them by surprise.

The addition of Ron and his raw power to her little plan had quite the effect, as suddenly nearly all of the people near her were concentrated on him as the greater threat. At this point some of them were making a break for it, running into the forest screaming, while she continued to distract and wrong-foot those who stayed behind while Ron batted them around like toys, occasionally throwing a fireball.

All of this meant that Harry had time to do what he needed to as he found the one he needed to.

Voldemort was still lobbing spells from a distance, apparently aiming for Dumbledore, as much good as that did; the school's wards may have fallen to his superior numbers and firepower, but Dumbledore's personal shielding spells were nothing to laugh at. It was just too bad that the Avada Kedavra lost its potency with distance. That didn't stop him from trying every once in a while, but so far he'd only hit a pair of students, which was of little concern to him.

He didn't notice the Potter brat sneaking up behind him until he was very close, and at that point he was about to call a full retreat. Unfortunately said brat was now between him and the best avenue of escape.

Sneering, Voldemort snarled at the little monster, "_YOU'VE COST ME EVERYTHING!_ **AVADA KEDAVRA!**"

Harry frowned and instantly transformed, barely thinking about what he needed, instead allowing his instincts to come up with the best solution.

"**MIIIIIMEEE!**" Voldemort had no time react. He wasn't in shape, so he couldn't dodge, and despite the defensive wards falling the Anti-Apparition wards still worked so he couldn't teleport away when a sudden wall of light _reflected_ the world's most unblockable spell!

"AAAAAAUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH!" Voldemort writhed as his half-living, half-ghostly self was ripped apart, the dark forces that held him in the living world fighting mightily against his own Killing Curse.

His body, fake yet solid as it was, began to dissolve into black motes as he fell apart, but he did not despair. He was immortal! His soul anchors meant that he would never go to the afterlife, he would always stay here, such that no matter how long he stayed as a shade, he would _always_ come back to life!

He was just about to leave to lick his wounds as well as an un-ghost could when he felt something latch on to him.

His attention drawn, he looked to see those green eyes staring attentively at him, as though they expected something from him.

"Hah! You think this is the end? I'M IMMORTAL! I CAN'T DIE! I'll simply come back again, and mark my words, NEXT TIME YOU WILL DIE!"

Harry was largely unaffected by the not-man's words. He reached out and tugged again, eliciting a surprised yelp from the not-ghost.

A few moments later Voldemort realized that he wasn't able to get away. His ghostly form had no strength to it whatsoever, and somehow, despite being immaterial, the... boy was keeping him in place. "No. Let me go! DO YOU HEAR ME? LET ME GO!"

Harry smiled. And then he floated forward, both palms out.

Several seconds later, and after some rather chilling wails that echoed across the whole battlefield, it was done.

And all across the battlefield, all those that had come with Voldemort suddenly descended to their knees, clutching their left arm in pain. Almost as one they dropped their wands before them, whether they be standing on solid ground, mud, or among the corpses of the battle.

Hundreds of people had died that day, and the students and defenders of Hogwarts only mostly came out better than the Death Eaters; but with that sudden unease, the battle came to an end, the sound of Ron roaring with the backdrop of the volcano he'd created mirroring him.

* * *

><p>Epilogue<p>

* * *

><p>In the days and weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, as the papers had dubbed it, Magical Britain reeled from the after-effects.<p>

Several major Ancient and Noble houses died out in that battle, while several more now had either members, heirs, or even sole members that had been marked with the Dark Mark. Many claimed that they'd been forced into servitude, whether by threats or coercion, but such claims fell flat when it was found out exactly how and why one obtained the mark.

Privately, Dumbledore recognized it as a modification of the ritual used for making Horcruxes. Specifically, the mark taker needed to shatter their soul through the murder of another, and then Voldemort would implant his own magic within the cracks, shoring up the soul while irrevocably tying it to his own. One could not be truly forced to do so, as simply not wanting to take a life while doing so, or being unaffected by the act as one would while under Imperius, meant that every single marked individual could, at minimum, be charged with at least one murder.

Normally, in the ministry of only a few days ago, such trials would be thrown simply because the killing of a Muggle counted for the ritual, and therefore obviously none of those that were marked could be charged with anything other than what had been witnessed, and even that was coerced by the very invasive nature of the Mark. But that Ministry was but a memory, as nearly two-thirds of its former number now counted among the captured and dead.

On the day of the attack Voldemort had pulled every single wizard, witch, and dark creature he could call upon on such short notice. Of the wizards, most had been placed 'on-call', and they came immediately. In addition, the results of an illegal brood of Basilisks from several hundred years ago that had been found in China, and some dragons bred in captivity in Australia of all places, had all boosted his numbers. But the real problem came when all those those people disappeared, all at once.

The implications were obvious, especially as Fudge had panicked and called in every single ministerial employee that could be reached, only to find that a full third of the Auror force had gone missing along with nearly half of the rest of the Ministry.

That the ruling body was so corrupted caused a rather severe backlash among the public. Fudge was sacked almost immediately, joining Umbridge, who had been sacked the day before for her part in what the Wizengamot called 'Gross and Burdensome Negligence and Abuses of Power'. In Umbridge's case it came down to the fact that inconveniencing and bullying Muggleborns was fine, but doing the same to Purebloods was suicide. Every rule and attempt at law that she'd had a hand in was reversed or at least put up for great scrutiny. It helped that the Wizengamot, too, had had rather a lot of fat cut from it.

All these changes in Britain's magical government came alongside changes elsewhere, such as in Hogwarts itself. While it mostly returned to business as usual, tension among the students peaked with each new announcement of this or that Death Eater who had died or been sentenced for either prison or death. The school had been shut down for well over a month as parents and families mourned the dead, and several more were pulled from the school entirely. Draco Malfoy, notably, was pulled by his mother shortly after finding out that his father was among the dead; he'd then been enrolled in Durmstrang, citing 'great emotional trauma connected to Hogwarts'.

The Magical government additionally created, for the first time ever, a foster system for magical children suddenly bereft of a real family. No longer would children be the responsibility of one man, but of a small committee, dedicated to their good care.

In relation to Harry and his friends, overtures had been cast for their reclassification as dangerous and berserk magical creatures; Ron, especially, was being cast into the light of a 'Dark Creature', but these overtures did not last long, especially after their paperwork had been filed. Now that Ron's form was complete and observable, all three friends could be fully registered as Animagi, even if it were now considered a rather useless gesture. Especially for Harry, who's shapeshifting lent a rather large headache to the registration office.

In the coming years Harry's friends found their places. Hermione became a teacher, taking over for Professor Binns to teach Magical History, a change welcomed by both Students and Staff, as well as being a convenient excuse to stay with the school where she could help protect the children as her powers continued to grow.

Ron, meanwhile, had gone into law enforcement. The Auror Corps changed quite a bit in those several years, not only because of being overworked and underpaid, barely appreciated as the task force they effectively became, but because of the Muggle world, which continued its alarming march forward in technology. That technology, as vulnerable as it was to magic, just like the people that designed it, was becoming increasingly pervasive. Witches and wizards were getting caught on camera more and more, performing feats, especially Apparition, that couldn't easily be explained away. This is why the Auror Corps had to get into contact, and create a working relationship with Scotland Yard and, to a lesser degree, even with lesser, more local districts. Ron loved and hated his job in the same breath.

Harry himself was something of a strange one in those years. He seemed happy to stop hiding, as Voldemort was no longer a threat, and hearing about a Prophecy involving the two of them simply made him shrug, not really having anything to say about it.

But overall, Harry seemed to all others to simply be happy to be involved. Much like Peeves he became an unofficial fixture at Hogwarts, often prancing about or playing with the children. Sometimes he disappeared, rarely for months at a time, but Hogwarts, as he said, was his home. Discovering that he had properties was of little importance to him, though he did find way to make use of them for the House Elves' sakes.

Voldemort lived on as well, though much changed. Harry's final bid to be free of the Dark Lord's threat was to take command of his broken soul. It had been explained to him by the visitor that had introduced herself as the one responsible for their altered potion, the one responsible for bringing the first Mew hair into his world, exactly what a Mew was. She had told him what a _Pokemon_ was, and what his role as a deity was.

Mew, for all its power mixed in with childishness, had a very important role in the world they came from. Though there were only a few remaining, and they sometimes got help from other interested deities.

Mew was the Pokemon of New Life, the origin Pokemon; it took care to nurture life, so when a soul was too damaged or burdened to properly make its way to the afterlife, too tired or regretful, too angry or afraid to make the journey, a Mew would find them, help them in whatever way necessary.

Often this meant being reborn; going back into the world, given the opportunity to come to terms with death, or say goodby;, to open up from a defensive shell, or even be punished and taught a lesson. Whatever would prepare the soul best for the afterlife was Mew's domain, and almost always it involved a New Life.

This time was no different. Harry, having been informed that there was a piece of Voldemort's soul having taken residence within him, had been given responsibility for that soul. He needed to punish, reward, and teach that soul, it was his responsibility, and so he had claimed it.

The result was an egg, about the size of the Golden Egg from the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, but black with colorful designs on it rather than one solid color. And this time, with the former Dark Lord's tattered, almost completely destroyed soul within it, it thrummed with life.

This was Harry's method for ending the war, for ending Voldemort's threat, and when said former man hatched into a large snake, Harry continued to be responsible for him. He taught him how to be what he now was, punished him as necessary, rewarding him when possible and overall taking an almost parental role for the young snake.

A parent with an almost Imperious level of control, due largely to holding command over his soul, true, but a parent nonetheless.

And so it went. Very few people really got all that they wanted, and there was, as ever, a lot of work to do to reach that mythical 'Happily Ever After'. Harry's intervention from time to time usually made things better, sometimes made them worse, at least in the short term, but while the students of Hogwarts usually thought of the little pink creature as a fixture of the school, almost belonging to it the same as the ghosts, none could deny his effects on the greater world around them. He seemed almost determined to change the world, though that could only be expected.

It wasn't until the Triwizard Tournament came around again, this time being held in Bulgaria, that the Magical world at large, beyond Britain's borders, really got a good look at just what Harry was capable of.

After all, when wizards gather together, they can't help but to show off, and despite not really being human anymore, Harry was no exception.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Hermione held her cloak around her as she adjusted it in the wind. It was getting on into the winter months, and despite the Muggles seeming to be worried about 'Global Warming', Hermione thought it seemed chillier than she remembered it. Or perhaps that was her imagination.<p>

Regardless of her thoughts about the weather, especially knowing that it would be even colder at her destination, Harry merely grinned and bobbed up and down in an energetic, and perhaps somewhat odd mimicry of nodding 'yes'.

"Miyuuu! Mewmyuiu!" He then returned to flitting around wildly, as though checking everything was in order, although what he might be checking no one knew for sure.

"I admit to a bit of nerves, Hermione. I know for certain that something on this scale has never been attempted before. You're absolutely certain you can do it?" McGonagall frowned slightly as she watched her former student flutter around like a bird, mewling commentary she couldn't understand.

Hermione smiled at the older woman, still as strong as ever, even with nearly another decade behind her. "Yes, Headmistress. Harry will be doing the heavy lifting, of course, while I'll be watching the wards and the grounds. As I've told the Board, if I see any sign of instability, I'll call the entire adventure off and we'll simply have to arrive by more conventional means."

"Merlin, I'm not sure if I want this to work or not..." Shaking her head, the now more noticeably elderly Professor reminded herself that the Board of Governors had, indeed, approved this little stunt.

Then she snorted quietly, amused at the idea of this stunt being called 'little'. Straightening, she bade her temporary farewell. "Well, nothing more for it. I shall go inside and do my part. You'll have plenty of curious gawkers at the windows, no doubt, and many more will be watching through the enchanted ceiling, but there won't be so much as a pet outside on the grounds."

"Thank you, Ma'am, that will be very helpful." Both witches nodded before the elder of the two retreated back to the school, shutting the doors tight behind her.

Breathing a fortifying sigh, Hermione transformed, sending a mental signal to Harry that everything was prepared.

Harry responded first with a light giggle as he floated near a higher parapet on the western side, then he coasted closer toward the center of the castle, glowing more and more brightly pink as he went.

Hermione watched, amazed, as she _felt_ as much as saw the raw power that Harry had suddenly started pumping out into the air and grounds in and around the school.

For several seconds, nothing else happened; then, like some kind of locust swarm small black dots, creatures in fact, began pouring out of every opening in the school, careening around the area like some kind of cloud.

Then the pink glow intensified and, just as Hermione was able to hear Harry's high pitched shout, the ground beneath her began to rumble.

She couldn't afford a lapse in concentration, so she largely missed the light show that the students inside were privy to, even if they had to watch through windows and enchanted walls.

Harry floated higher, the black cloud now forming a dome with several strings of them floating, almost meaninglessly in odd, whimsical designs within this dome, until Harry reached the peak of the structure. As he did so his pink glow suddenly erupted across the entire surface, crashing down into the ground in a great circle centered on the castle, physically impacting it with a resounding _**CRUNCH**_.

Then, slowly, _agonizingly_ slowly, the castle and the grounds around it began to rise. Inch by inch. Foot by foot. The castle, the grounds, the _lake_ and all of its dungeons rose into the air under the power and guidance of one small creature.

And then, just as it reached far enough into the air that it had started to brush low-hanging clouds, it vanished.

Thousands of miles away, at that very moment, the entire contents of the Durmstrang School of Magic had assembled on the lawn of their school. Like Hogwarts, this school had been made from an old castle, grand yet sturdy, powerful and ancient.

And most of those students were now growing quite anxious. They'd been expecting visitors for close to an hour now, and yet none had arrived.

Then some students began to mutter, noticing what appeared to be a dark cloud of bugs, or possibly birds in the distance, fluttering wildly over the nearby forests.

Muttering became hushed whispering, then morphed into all out chatter before being silenced by a great pink flash that temporarily blinded them all...

Awe, and honestly a bit of fear took them all, down to the last, as they looked up at the massive floating... well, _mountain!_ An entire _mountain_ had been set to floating, up-ended, and then a relatively small, though otherwise grand castle sitting atop the mountain's bottom, was now hovering ominously over the forest below the castle, as though it were a massive warship that had come in for the kill.

Shock and surprise had gone through the entire population of the school before, as ever, it began to wear away, changing into curious excitement.

The black cloud, which had flashed pink for a moment, had settled down and was now more like thin black chains holding the mountain in place. To the trained, experienced eye the patterns looked remarkably like the structure of a spell in flight, as though this entire incident had been caused by a single, massive spell, at a scale no one had ever heard of before. But upon closer inspection, the sharp-eyed observer would note that the substance of the black lines was not solid, but created by thousands of tiny black... _things._

Of all those present, the two most prepared among them was two men. One was older, and the other quite a bit younger, but both had the royal bearing of noble blood. And both refused to show shock.

"Headmaster?"

"Yes, go, please." And with a nod, the younger stepped forward.

Despite the cliff face affording the aberrant building far more room than it would have had otherwise, the distance between the two schools was still a comfortable walk to cross. And it also gave the young man enough time to observe more as he approached.

And to realize that the black dots were more than just dots. They were _runes_.

Runes with _eyes!_ Living runes!

What an absurd idea. And yet, someone had apparently thought of such a thing. At least that explained how this had been pulled off. Sort of. Even with the runes, the power requirements to teleport an entire magical school, itself resistant to magic, would have to be _monumental_.

Still, as he noticed a figure approaching, walking seemingly on air, he gave a sense of apathy to the near heart attack that loomed mere yards away.

The figure noticed him standing there and walked, across a platform made of pure magic, toward him and gave him a polite nod.

"Professor Malfoy."

"Professor Granger."

There were a few moments of silence, then Hermione spoke again, "Headmaster McGonagall shall be down soon."

"And I shall guide them to Headmaster Karkaroff."

Silence again. Then an observation.

"Your lake is leaking."

Hermione spun around, then sighed. "So it is."

"The waterfall is a nice effect."

"Perhaps, but the Merfolk would be angry if we let the lake drain out."

"I can imagine so."

"So, have you made Deputy yet?"

"No, that honor went to Filius."

"Head of House?"

"Gryffindor."

"My apologies." They stood silent for another moment.

"You?"

"Feekind."

"Ah. Keeping them in line?"

Draco grimaced, "I never was one for practical jokes. Seems I always have at least one student in detention." Feekind was a bit like taking the near anarchist tendencies of Gryffindor and mixing it with the political maneouverings of Slytherin. "Potter would have done well there. Well, before..."

"Yes. Speaking of."

A pink streak greeted them, zipping to within feet of their position with a loud "MEWEWWW!"

Hermione scowled at him, bringing him up short. She then jabbed her finger at the small waterfall coming out from beneath the school, which was being captured by the wind and distributed all over the forest below.

"Meeehhh-" Harry gave his head an embarrassed scratch before zooming off to plug the hole, and likely to deal with some irate mermen.

"So you even brought the dungeons?"

"Not doing so would have left the Slytherin dorms behind. Besides doing so being rather rude, no one could be bothered to think of a new place for them. Taking the dungeons without taking the lake would have collapsed it into the hole. So we took it all."

Malfoy sighed with a shake of the head as he noticed Headmistress McGonagall approaching with a procession of students, transfiguring some proper stairs from the nearby stone, rather than trusting the forcefields that the living runes had set up.

"It looks like we'll have to continue this conversation another time." He plastered a wide smile and walked forward. "Headmistress! So good to see you! I shall take you to the Headmaster for a proper welcome, if you'll come this way."

"Ever the gentleman, Professor Malfoy. Thank you."

The remainder of that educational year was rather interesting, to say the least. Although Hogsmead weekends were, understandably cancelled. Few people seemed to mind.

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><p>The End<p>

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><p>That's it! That's the end of the story. I hope it was satisfactory; it took long enough. Even after I finally got the will and energy to get working on it, it still took several months. Partly because I only seem to be able to do writing anymore during breaks and lunches at work, and partly because my computer suffered a Hard Drive crash and I lost everything I'd been working on for the previous year and a half. Most of what I lost for this story, other than the first draft of this chapter of course, was simply previous chapters, which have already been posted so that's alright.<p>

But regardless, that's the end of the story! There won't be any more chapters for the main story, but there _will_ (eventually) be sort of chapter-length Omakes, some of which have already been planned out, and a few of which are just silly ideas I think about sometimes.

Now that this story is complete, and I can finally _call_ it complete (which feels nice), I can focus some more time on some of the other projects that have been simmering in the back of my brain. Specifically **Emerald Dream**, the HP/MLP crossover I hinted at several chapters back, which I've got a vague outline for already, and some backbones for some companion stories I probably won't put as much effort into for the time being.

And to all the people still with me after all this time, thank you so much! I can't say again how awesome it's been to have you all there, whether with an encouraging review every now and again, or with a Favorite (I keep finding my own story in peoples' favorites lists, which has done more to keep me motivated that I can really describe), or even just by reading without reviewing.

Thank you again, and have a good Evening!

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><p><strong>Pokemon in this Chapter:<strong>

**Entei:**

**Entei is typically described as being roughly the size of a horse, perhaps a bit smaller, though the example in this story is closer to the size of a smallish elephant. Though not seen much in the Anime, Entei did have a feature film as an imagined protector made real by the Unown, where he acted as protector, guide, and temporary 'father' to a young girl under the influence of the Unown. Entei, as a legendary, is quite powerful in the element of fire, and is strongly linked to Volcanoes. It is said that Entei is born from the eruption of a Volcano, and that every time an Entei roars, a Volcano erupts. Strongly resembling a lion, it is the Fire-Type of three legendary beasts that have been called both 'Legendary Cats' and 'Legendary Dogs', although Nintendo simply refers to them as 'Legendary Beasts'. This is the creature that Ron turns into, being able to draw smallish amounts of power even in his human form, it treats him well in his chosen profession of Auror.**

**Gardevoir:**

**Gardevoir is a green, delicate-looking Pokemon with green hair, red eyes, and white flesh that flows from its arms and hips in a striking resemblance to a ballroom gown, which, together with the red 'horn' protruding from its chest, gives it a striking resemblance to a human woman, its average height of just over five feet helping the comparison. Gardevoir's greatest strength is in Psychic ability, but while it is strong in its own right, it is strongest when defending others, especially those it cares about, whereupon it pours all of its available power into a defense that few things can break through. Unlike Mr. Mime, which creates barriers as a matter of course, Gardevoir's shields are intended for the protection of others, and there are few shields in the Pokemon world that are stronger, which is thus why Harry transformed into one when his friends and House were threatened.**

**Espeon:**

**When Eevee is especially happy and being exposed to Sunlight, it evolves into Espeon. Exactly why this happens during the day, while an evolution into Umbreon happens during the night despite otherwise identical triggers is unknown. But what is known is that Espeon is a very powerful Psychic type, if a bit weak physically. Hermione's Pokemon form evolved into this Eeveelution due to the happiness and relief of finding Harry healthy and alive after believing him to have been gone, while the continued shine of Sunny Day caused her to become Espeon, otherwise she would have become Umbreon. As an Espeon she is far more in tune, now, with Harry, his abilities, and his thought processes, and with the right training could possibly almost keep up with him, though she prefers to think of herself as a Human first, and a Pokemon second.**

**Mr. Mime:**

**Mr. Mime, despite its surname, is actually the name of a species of both male and female Pokemon. Looking and acting like the classic mime-in-an-invisible-box, it almost always either has its hands up against a flat 'surface', or mimicking others (although it's pre-evolution, Mime Jr., is better known for mimicry). However, unlike the average Mime, Mr. Mime's hands are usually against an actual surface, created using its psychic abilities and focused by the tips of its fingers. Its shields and barriers are second to very, very few, and have a wide range of effects ranging from blocking special attacks, physical attacks, to reflecting the same, which is what happened when Voldemort lost control of his 'unblockable' spell. In short, the Mirror Shield simply reflected it, rather than blocking it. The best-known 'Mr. Mime' in Pokemon Media is likely the one adopted by Delia Ketchum, Ash's mother, which stayed at home with her and is often seen helping around the house, while ostensibly keeping the woman company.**

**Seviper:**

**Seviper is a primarily black snake with brightly colored markings adorning its body, typically gold and blue. Although famous for its rivalry with Zangoose, it is generally a fairly average Poison-type Pokemon. In this case, however, it is a somewhat appropriate punishment for a Dark Lord that tore his soul to pieces in an attempt at immortality. He will live long enough for his soul to be healed, while also being subject to the rules he spurned before, in a form appropriate to him, and then will die just like everyone else.**

**Mew:**

**Although everyone likely already knows what Mew looks like, acts like, and what its general abilities are, I thought I should point out the salient bits that may have been lost in translation for this story. Mew is usually referred to as the 'New Species' Pokemon, and is said to be the Ancestor of all Pokemon. In order to be this, it had to have existed before all other species, save perhaps Arceus. This means that it knew a world where Death didn't exist. So after Death started to be a thing, the way it worked had to be worked out. If all Pokemon came from Mew, that means that the other Legendaries did, too, therefore it was a Mew that became responsible for the souls of the Dead. When this responsibility became too much for one Legendary to do alone, other Mews volunteered to help, and thus they started to take the hardest cases to rehabilitate their souls so they can more smoothly progress through the death and rebirth process. This means, in my Pantheon at least, that Mew is literally a god of death and birth, specifically **_**re-**_**birth, while also having a very strong connection to the birth process, exhibiting itself earlier in this story as Harry's unaccountably close tie with the golden egg he'd gotten during the Triwizard Tournament. I might write up a full Headcanon Origin Story at some point and post it as one of those Omake Chapters, but for now I hope that answers any questions about that particular detail. ^^v**

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><p>For now, this is Alex Ultra, getting back to work. *sneaky looks*<p>

Alex Ultra: And Back To Normal

LATER


	25. Epilogue - From The Beginning

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

There was maybe a little bit of demand for this, and I like finally having it written down, so here's my headcanon/backstory/origin story for the Pokemon World. I believe there's a pseudo-official canon somewhere, but this is how it works in any story I use that references and/or uses Pokemon, especially Harry Mewter. ^^ Hope you enjoy!

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><p>Epilogue: From The Beginning<p>

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><p>In the beginning, there was nothing. No world. No life. No fighting or chaos. No order or even time.<p>

There was only thought. The thoughts of a being that didn't know where it came from, and didn't even know what it was.

But the being _did_ know that it was lonely.

It tried to create. To create a place to be. To create something to see. But it failed. So instead it wished. Not for a home, or for something to see or play with.

Instead, it wished for a friend.

A friend that would keep it company, and which it could love.

That first being, the one which approached from nowhere, and which to any other being would have been little more than an imaginary friend, was promptly named 'Doggy'. The form of Doggy didn't matter, and so it had no set form, but he (for that is what he insisted he was) knew that he existed for her (for that is what he insisted she was). And with this companionship, both were content for a time.

Eventually, the novelty of companionship with each-other began to wear away, and he began to notice her wish for more. He did not understand it, he had been created for her, and only her, but by some unspoken thought he knew what he must do.

He reached deep inside her, her essence, and from her created a new being. Unlike himself, this new being was not meant to comfort and entertain, for he fulfilled those needs in her, but rather this new being was meant for her to love and care for. It took on qualities that were meant to appeal to her, which made her gravitate toward it and hold it as best she could.

This one was loved, and was quickly followed by more until they had a small family. She was the first mother, he the first father, and they the first Children, playful and innocent but earnest in their love for their parents.

Again, they lived that way for a time, but as with all Children, these first ones began to grow bored and antsy. They did not fully understand what it was they wanted or needed, and neither did their mother, who could see their needs but not what to do to help them.

_He_ could, however, and again he solved this problem by reaching deeply into her.

A world is what he created, brought forth from her. It was still of her, still a part of her, but in that moment Doggy had brought form into the world for their Children to explore.

It was rough, and by modern standards that proto-world would be considered unbelievably violent and dangerous, unpredictable and chaotic to the extreme. But to those first Children it was perfect, a playground where they could burn the energy they had to spare while still never leaving their mother's embrace.

And so the first Children, known today as the first generation of Mew, leapt forth into this new world to explore it; they were never able to see all of it, for it changed constantly and was itself infinite, form bound only by the expectations of the ones seeing it. But it was a start, and with those first Children off exploring their new world, Doggy brought forth another generation of Children for Her to love.

They lived this way, repeating the cycle an unknown number of times, and more and more Children came forth into a world created specifically for them. They kept an eye on the Children that left their embrace for the world they'd created, but overall things were stable again for a time.

Then some of those Children, inspired by their parents, also wished for Children of their own.

She and Doggy heard those pleas, but at first they were unsure how it would work. The Children had never been intended to be anything but Children, after all. Still, She was eager to see it done, and so they came to their decision.

Life as it was, determined life as it would come to be. It had taken two to create the first Children, so it would always take two to make more. Form, needed to explore the world the Children now lived in, was decided later, and for the most part Children would take on the form of one or both parents, assuming either held a form at the time.

These first Grandchildren were much like their parents, but unlike the first generation these new Children had the experience of their parents to draw upon and saw the world not as a toy to play with, but as a way to connect with the grandparents they were told they had, but whom most never met directly.

This vein continued for a while, but unknown to most, even She and Doggy, each generation further was influenced more and more greatly by the world in which they now lived. They were becoming part of it, one with it, and this world was always changing, never stable and nothing lasted for long. The Children, Grandchildren, Great-Grandchildren and so-on took on forms to better withstand it, most changing their forms to deal with new situations while others had favorite forms and favorite situations.

But perhaps the most important effect of this change, of this evolution of life, the one that most defined the world and its inhabitants from that point on, was death.

For the world as it had been made was chaotic, and nothing lasted for long. And as the Children began to be more and more like the world in which they lived, they, too, began to decay. None had predicted it, none had planned for it, but one day a child of unknown generation, had been doing as all before him had, and simply… lost form.

Tired, is what he was. Spent, no longer having the strength to resist the reforming force of the world in which he lived, and so he lost cohesion, lost that which made him separate from his world and was lost, his essence returning to the many-greats-grandmother that he knew only in stories.

It is said that all the worlds lakes, rivers, and oceans were filled in a single day by the rains created by her tears, inconsolable as she was to know that a child, one of _hers_, had been lost forever and would never again return. Because ultimately, all things of this world, including those who lived in it, were a part of her, and if overwhelmed by her, would return to her being. She could not bring them back, for doing so would not bring back what was lost, but merely an imitation, a memory of what had been, and in her grief she threatened to tear at the seams.

Part of her wished to be alone, and in this retreat she plunged herself into an empty corner of her own mind, where she did not have to see the world, this house of cards that she and Doggy had built, an empty space of no more form than could be expected, and here she stay, not even Doggy knowing how to help her.

But she did not stay alone for long. The first generation, knowing her most acutely, came to stay with her for a while, listening to the pain of her heart.

It was during this time that a solution was decided on. The Children knew best what it was that was happening, they saw it in the others that lived in Her world yet separate from Her. And so one of them came to a conclusion.

'I shall take them.' he said, 'When they are tired and can no longer live among you, I will take them and protect them. With me they can rest and regain their strength, and when ready return to you, and live the world anew.'

This solution was heard, and it was decided that it was a good one. With one of the first Children, the strongest of all, protecting them from the otherwise overwhelming force of Her Will, and with He not having Children borne of his essence, they would never be in danger of becoming one with him instead.

A space was set aside for him to do this work, a space with no form such that those too tired to hold one would not be required to expend the energy in keeping one, and he soon had work to do to uphold his promise.

For the world was still chaotic, and other Children were soon losing their own battles with this chaos. Those that lost their fight found solace with him, and he came to be known as their guardian. Wishing to show their gratitude, they learned of his name. _Giratina._

But now, new problems were being discovered.

While the first few generations were strong enough to resist the world in which they lived, which had been made for them, the later generations discovered that it did not wear at them evenly.

One individual would travel shortly and yet be almost completely worn away, while another would wander farther than all others and be barely affected. The infinite nature of the world had been good for the first Children, but now this very nature made it more hazardous than necessary.

Two more of the First Children came forth with a solution. They could affect the world around them, and between them, with input from Doggy, they decided on the world as it would be known from then on. A world still with forces, but much more evenly spread and predictable, with forces that moved rather than simply appearing and disappearing without reason.

A world of both Time and Space readily defined. The names of these two who were responsible for this newly solid world, came to be known as _Palkia_ and _Dialga_.

As Time marched forward and Space allowed for it, permanent settlements began to grow, groups of Children banding together to draw strength from each-other and for protection from the forces of the world.

With their world now relatively peaceful, the Children began to turn to each-other to fulfill the need for struggle that had defined the march forward into the infinite world. No longer a struggle to resist the destructive forces of the world they lived in, these battles amongst each-other actually strengthened the participants. In time it was found that the strongest among them could even protect the weaker ones from the world, and so, while some Children set out on their own, most came to a mutually beneficial arrangement: The strong led and protected the weak from forces beyond their muster, while the weak took on forces closer to their level and grew stronger from them.

This worked well, and soon came to be the most widely accepted way to live. But after a time Death again came to an emergency.

Giratina was overwhelmed. The continued creation of new Children populated the living world, but when they died and He came for them, even formless and infinite as was his nature, he simply could not keep up with the ever-increasing demand.

He was afraid of missing and losing the essence of weakened Children, and so had began taking them _before_ they lost that battle. He was making up for his inability to reach them all in time by taking them when he got to them, even if he had to weaken and take them by force.

This was a major concern. While the necessity of his task was undeniable, taking the living before they died was beyond what was expected of him. They did not want it, so they had to address it.

Three solutions were found. The first was that no new Essences, no new 'Souls' were to be created; rather, souls suitably rested and strengthened from time in Giratina's domain would be returned to the Living world, reducing the population of his world. Second, a new 'form' was defined, this time by a Second Child, based on Giratina's form which a Soul could take without being further weakened; a non-physical form which could keep a Soul together almost indefinitely and even draw strength from others as one of the Living could.

This 'Ghost' form came to embody the unmoved-dead, and like the living, many variations on the basic form came to be.

The third and final solution came from any other child available with the strength to pull it off: Children from any generation of suitable power could and would approach a soul, and strengthen it. Some by lending some of their own power, strengthening the soul in a way that no amount of fighting ever could, others by shoring up the Soul's defenses. Some Souls needed as little as reassurance that things would be okay, or a promise to inform those left behind of their passing. Some, not truly ready for Death but whose forms had been lost prematurely by some means or another, were simply given a new form to live life anew, skipping time in Giratina's world, even if this meant their new life would be shorter than if they had properly rested.

And so Time went on. The Children discovered that when Space had been defined not all of the World had been in one place, and that because of this there were now many worlds with nearly infinite Space between them, with only the greatest among them being able to bridge the gap. This left most of these worlds isolated from each-other, even if still connected by their shared Ancestry, and shared Otherworlds.

As time went on the Souls, no longer being made anew, grew stronger. More resilient. After a while even the weakest of them could live in this newer, more peaceful world relatively unchanged for longer and longer periods of time. Eventually, a new type of form, influenced by this strengthening of souls came to be, a form which could be more easily destroyed and yet was somehow more solid. These Children were the same as their brethren at first, but the strengths and weaknesses of these, which called themselves Human, came to be more obvious: No longer did they need to draw strength from others just to continue to exist, no longer did they need to fight, and indeed the strength of their presence was enough for others to draw from them almost infinitely, furthering the strengthening of all the world's Souls. But while their Presence was indeed strong, their form, their 'Body' was weak. The loss of the innate Chaos in their form gave them solidarity, but made most of them almost defenseless.

These Humans became natural leaders of others. Their ability to support and strengthen others meshed well with their relative defenselessness, and even when the differences between Human and non-Human became clearer, the relationship between the two, if anything, strengthened.

Over time problems arose, and solutions came about to deal with them. Some in the form of actual Individuals prepared to take responsibility for them, others in the form of new rules of conduct. The Chaos of the Proto-World was imitated by a pair of Third-Children who took on the task of moving the land and sea, such that it would never degrade away completely. The History of the World and of its Souls was kept and protected by a Triumvirate, responsible for keeping its Memory, protecting its Strength, and encouraging its Growth. Some sought to seek new ways of being, while others sought to protect what had already proven to work and work well.

No matter the way or the reason, struggle continued, sometimes itself causing problems. Problems continued to come and go, creating fatigue that would at times cause the tired to do things they otherwise wouldn't have. Destruction went alongside creation and growth. A sort of Morality was defined, and itself changed and was redefined infinitely, much like the world that inspired it.

In all this, the world lived on its own. Dedicated to itself and its children, yet separate from them. For, beyond the first two or three generations, if she were to interact too much or too directly with one of the Children, any defense they could muster against her influence would be overwhelmed. She could love them and support them, and hope they became strong enough to meet her directly some day, but she had to keep her distance.

This was her world. Until an outsider came.

This outsider simply did not come from her, and at first neither her, nor Doggy, nor any of the Children could understand how this could be.

They realized that she was more like Her than like the Children. She was young. Small. Infinitesimally so. And yet, she was the same as Her.

Hope in her heart, She brought this new one into her world, gave her a place in that world, and in return, whether knowingly or not, her very presence strengthened the souls around her.

This new one was prone to wandering, and She could not keep her down, especially as the wanderings themselves not only strengthened her, but even opened Her eyes to places beyond even her imaginings.

It was when this One, adopted as a surrogate Child, brought Her out of her own shell and into the land of another, that an idea was hatched.

Just as the young one strengthened the souls of Her world, they could strengthen the souls of another.

In this Other world, they brought something of Her world, and gave it freely.

The three that took on this blessing, especially the one that took on the full blessing of one of her First Children, were indeed strengthened beyond any of their contemporary's imagining, and the effect of these two worlds touching would change both forever.

Because as with any Mew, Harry Potter's goal was to strengthen other souls as well he could, and being of multiple worlds, he could do so beyond even the reach of his own.

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><p>End<p>

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><p>So there we go, that's my Headcanon backstory to Harry Mewter, and is ultimately my Headcanon for any story I write involving Pokemon. 'She', the Will of the Pokemon World, typically takes the favorite form of her Children, if a bit larger, which is the Mew form as we know it. This is partly my explanation for how Mew can be the 'Ancestor' of all Pokemon, while still having Arceus having created the first Mew, because she takes the form of a Mew but is not technically either a Mew or even a Pokemon at all.<p>

And yes, 'Doggy' is Arceus. :D

Neither of them is really sure whether Arceus is an Other from outside of Her, or if he is, indeed, a figment of her imagination. And neither wants to know or cares.

The reason Harry cannot take the form of certain Pokemon is because, rather than being forms that all Mews take, the forms of those such as Palkia, Dialga, Arceus, and indeed the bulk of the Legendaries are, in fact, Individuals who took on their form and never abandoned it. Some, like Giratina, because their form helped them perform their jobs better (his ghostly state helps him to take care of the Souls of the Dead), while others simply have no need for another form, and still others keep their individual form as a way of identifying who they are and what they do (such as the Lake Trio).

The 'Children' (mostly Mews) that assist Giratina do so either by taking the souls of the dead directly, consulting them (imagine the ultimate psychiatrist), or periodically by simply putting them back to life. They also assist Giratina by taking souls from the Land of the Dead (aka The Distortion World, kinda makes 'You don't belong here' more meaningful) back to the living world, this in addition to being the 'New Species' Pokemon gives them the title of 'New Life' Pokemon; these roles strongly affect Harry throughout the story, specifically any time he interacts with any sort of egg, especially the Golden Egg which is about the size of a Pokemon Egg.

The 'Other' spoken of near the end is essentially an Interdimensional traveler, and is also the one who not only kicked off the whole Harry Mewter storyline, but contacted him during the summer before fifth year to explain _all_ of this to him and is even the reason he, himself, can now travel between worlds, having taken him to visit her adopted home.


End file.
